Inheritance
by CV12Hornet
Summary: Transformation is not always a free action. When Piccolo kills Freeza on Namek, it sets in motion events both good and bad, and completely divergent from the original timeline. For Freeza is not the only enemy out there in the stars...
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Say hello to my new project as I let the creative juices for The Commission recharge. This particular divergence was inspired by a video by Youtuber Qaaman's Land a while back, and many of the plot beats up to the Android Saga will be borrowing from his speculation. And don't be put off by the repeat of the manga at the start, this goes off the rails very quickly.**

 **Also? The title is foreshadowing. Let's see if you can guess what.**

 **Chapter 1: Revolution**

Just moments ago, Planet Namek had been torn by battle, but now it was briefly peaceful as the two fighters reassessed their chances. Piccolo, the Namekian of Earth, kept up his stance as he watched his opponent, a slightly cocky smirk on his face. So far he was untouched. Up in the air was Freeza, the galactic real-estate-mogul-slash-emperor, and he was rather less composed. Also smoking slightly from the energy blast he'd just been hit with.

Some distance away floated Son Gohan and Krillin of Earth, as well as Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans. All three gaped at the short but intense bout they'd just seen.

"He's… he's as strong as Freeza!" Krillin finally managed to get out.

"No he's not," Vegeta countered through gritted teeth, his face falling into a disbelieving scowl. "He's even _stronger._ "

That proclamation caused both Earthlings to grin widely. "Wow! I didn't know he was so strong!" Gohan exclaimed.

"Yeah, we might just get out of this yet!"

' _How is this possible?'_ Vegeta mentally demanded. ' _It's been barely over a month since Nappa killed him on Earth.'_

Vegeta's thoughts and Gohan's and Krillin's celebration were cut short as Freeza slowly floated down to the island Piccolo stood on, his face in a tight scowl. And then it morphed into a confident smirk.

"Heh."

Piccolo only had time to blink before the galactic tyrant rammed his right elbow into the warrior's cheek. This was followed up by an overhead punch that buried the Namekian's face in the dirt. A third punch slammed into the ground as Piccolo took flight, soaring upwards. Freeza immediately followed, rapidly overtaking his opponent and nailing him with an overhead slam that sent Piccolo spiraling into the island below, throwing up a large cloud of dust.

"Heheheh," Freeza chuckled as he watched his handiwork.

"Oh… Oh God… He was just faking it…" Krillin breathed in numb, open-mouthed horror. Beside him, Gohan and Vegeta were in a similar state of shock.

' _H-His power is limitless,'_ Vegeta thought in disbelief. ' _And_ I _was trying to fight that monster?'_

Back on the battlefield, rock clattered as Piccolo painfully pulled himself to his feet, his clothing torn and a small wound bleeding on his forehead. Once again, Freeza descended to the ground, but this time he was smirking confidently from the start, his arms crossed and thus out of his guard.

"Heh, do forgive me, Piccolo," he said politely. "You were better than I expected, so I couldn't resist teaching you a little lesson." The smirk turned downright venomous as Piccolo finally stood. "But this game is over."

Piccolo's response was to spit out a glob of blood and saliva. Reaching up, he lifted his cape and mantle off his shoulders, dropping it to the ground with a heavy thud. The turban came next, also thudding to the ground as Freeza look on, confused. He flexed his wrists and shook his head to unlimber his neck, then shot a confident smirk at Freeza.

"Good idea," he said. "I should probably get serious, too."

Freeza's eyes narrowed in realization. "You mean you were- Hmph. I thought Namekians didn't tell lies."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, his weights!" Gohan exclaimed.

"W-What's he doing, playing around at a time like this?" Krillin groaned, Vegeta sending a confused glance at him.

"You'll soon find out," Piccolo replied. "Now feel the pain of all the Namekians you murdered!"

"We can win!" Gohan proclaimed, a tentative smile on his face.

That weak confidence soon faltered as they saw Freeza simply smirk again in response. "I see I've given you the wrong idea!" he said. "You think something like that would bother me? You don't seem to know about my transformations. You could ask Vegeta, if he isn't too afraid to speak!"

"Transformations…?" Piccolo slowly repeated.

"Heh. Are you beginning to feel afraid? Then let me tell you this." Grinning, Freeza held up two fingers. "My power increases hugely every time I transform. And I have two more transformations left."

Piccolo's eyes widened in realization. "Y-You mean-!"

"N-No way!" Krillin exclaimed as Vegeta and Gohan recoiled in horror. "I-I didn't hear that! Two more transformations?"

"You should feel honored!" Freeza continued. "You are the first one to ever see this! Ggghh…!"

Freeza raised his arms, his power starting to climb - only to throw himself to the side as he saw a spiraling energy beam fly towards him. Though the action saved him from acquiring a new hole in his torso, the beam still tore a chunk out of his side and left his left arm hanging by a few scraps of meat. Landing on his knees, his good arm clutching at his wound, the tyrant sent a baleful glare at Piccolo, who had his arms stretched out towards him, palms-first.

"W-Why you…"

"Did you really think I'd just stand there and let you transform?" Piccolo sneered. "It's over, Freeza."

Crouching, Piccolo kicked off the ground and tore towards Freeza at high speed. The tyrant, for his part, attempted to dodge the charge, but with the gaping wound in his side he was too slow. Piccolo merely changed direction, swinging his right hand in a chop. The knife-like hand blade carved through Freeza's mangled arm, barely slowing before lodging itself in the soft flesh of his side wound.

"Gnh!" he grunted, trying to tug his way out of Piccolo's grip. Before he could do so, though, the Namekian swung around and latched onto his good arm.

"Die!" Piccolo shouted, charging a blast in his right hand - only for Freeza to finagle just enough movement in his right hand to envelop him in an energy sphere.

"I-I can't move!" Piccolo grunted as he tried to break free.

"Begone!" Freeza shouted, shooting the energy ball at the horizon. The ball, with Piccolo in it, sailed a few miles before hitting one of the rocky islands and detonating in a colossal explosion that buffeted the trio watching.

For a moment, Gohan, Vegeta, and Krillin could only stare at the blooming mushroom cloud in mounting horror. The moment was promptly broken by Gohan tearing off after Freeza.

"You-!" he shouted, his aura blazing around him. The action shook Krillin and Vegeta out of their paralysis, the former starting to fly after Gohan before Vegeta grabbed him by the wrist.

"What are you-!"

"You wouldn't make any difference," Vegeta stated, deathly calm. "Besides, can't you feel ki? Take a look."

Krillin angrily ripped his wrist out of Vegeta's grip, and cast his senses out, recoiling in surprise when felt a large ki heading towards them from ground zero of the explosion.

"Exactly," Vegeta said as the bald martial artist's eyes widened. "We'll be fine, we just need to sit back and watch."

Despite the optimistic words, though, Krillin could see the Saiyan's fists clenched at his sides, tight enough to shake slightly.

Freeza, for his part, was trying to gather enough focus through the haze of pain to try and transform. If he could transform, he could fix at least some of the damage, and then he could slaughter all these insects for their impudence! So focused was he on this action that he didn't notice Gohan streaking towards him.

"Dyaaaaaaah!"

At least, not until Gohan's boot impacted the side of his head. The tyrant went flying, skipping once, twice off the water and slamming into the nearest island, the impact burying him in shattered rock. Gohan followed it up by throwing a salvo of blasts that left the island a smoking ruin.

Panting, Gohan scanned the shattered island as the smoke cleared, flinching as he saw the prone, unmoving form of Freeza lying on the rock. The barest hints of chi told him that the tyrant was still alive, if barely. Scrunching up his face, Gohan readied another blast to finish him off - only for a hand to touch down on his shoulder.

"I'll handle this, Gohan," Piccolo said, his skin dotted with minor burns and his clothes sporting a few new holes, but otherwise unscathed.

"Piccolo!" Gohan exclaimed. "How did you-!"

"I was able to break free right as it exploded," he explained. "I didn't avoid all of it, but I suspect he wasn't able to put as much energy into the blast as he usually does." Turning his gaze back on the tyrant, he began to descend. "Wait here."

The Namekian touched down next to Freeza's prone form, and knelt to check his breathing. He needn't have bothered; Freeza tried to swat at his feet with an angry growl.

"Kill… you…" he wheezed out of battered lungs.

"The only one dying here and now is you, Freeza," Piccolo retorted, standing up and pointing his palm at the downed Arcosian.

"Heheheh… My father… will do it… not me…"

Piccolo didn't respond in favor of releasing the blast, which neatly disintegrated Freeza's body and several hundred feet of rock below.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to kill him, too," he remarked, before turning his attention skyward.

~o~

"My word…" King Kai breathed.

"What happened?" Tenshinhan immediately asked.

"Freeza… is dead. Piccolo killed him." The Kai let out a pleased harrumph. "I honestly didn't expect that. Good call attacking him during the transformation."

"Well, that's Piccolo for you," Yamcha unknowingly echoed. "Powerful, smart, and pragmatic as all hell. I guess we can enjoy it until he's our enemy again."

"Mm, I doubt it," King Kai absently replied as he continued watching the events on Namek. "His bond with young Gohan is strong enough that I don't think he'll try anything like that."

The three Z-fighters present lapsed into an uncomfortable silence at that, none of them entirely willing to bet the fate of the planet on some nebulous bond.

"So… what now?" Chiaotzu wondered after a few moments.

"Well, for now it seems Piccolo will be fulfilling a promise," King Kai responded. "As for you three, you'll likely have to wait for the Earth Dragon Balls. I'm sorry, Chiaotzu."

The small fighter winced at that, his head drooping. Having died twice, the Earth Dragon Balls would be unable to restore him.

Tenshinhan, naturally, noticed his partner's distress, and shot him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Chiaotzu, I'll stay here," he said comfortingly. "We'll always be together, right?"

King Kai could only sigh at the exchange. Such a tragedy, letting those two talents stay dead.

" _Lord of the Worlds. Lord of the Worlds! It is I, God of Earth!"_

Hello, what's this?

"Yes, I hear you," King Kai replied.

~o~

Vegeta held himself open as Piccolo floated up to him and Krillin, Gohan by his side. The Namekian very much looked the part of the stern judge, his arms crossed in front of him.

"I told you you were next, Vegeta," he said grimly.

"W-Wait, Piccolo!" Krillin cut in, floating in front of the Saiyan. "He saved our lives so many times on Namek, that has to count for something! A-And Goku wanted to have a rematch with him!"

"And does that excuse all the innocent people he's killed here and elsewhere?" Piccolo retorted. "Besides, why should I indulge Goku's stupidity?"

"I-" Krillin started, only for Vegeta to cut him off by shoving him out of the way.

"I don't want your mercy, Earthling," he spat, before turning to Piccolo. "Let's get this over with."

Piccolo quirked a hairless brow in surprise. "You're not going to run?"

"If I thought that would work, I would," Vegeta retorted, sliding into a fighting stance. "As it is, running would be pointless. And given the choice between dying running or fighting, I'll take fighting any day."

Piccolo nodded in approval. "I can respect that."

Krillin and Gohan drifted out of the way as Piccolo settled into his own stance. For a few tense moments, the two sized each other up-

And then Vegeta, in one fluid movement, shot his palms forward and fired off the strongest energy blast he could muster. At such short range, even Piccolo couldn't dodge.

So he didn't try.

The blast slammed into his open palms, pushing his arms back slightly. With a roar of effort, Piccolo pushed forward with all his might, shooting it back at Vegeta at even higher speeds. The Saiyan barely had time to react before the energy swallowed him up, neatly disintegrating him.

Still, Piccolo didn't relax until the blast cleared, at which point he lowered his arms and glanced down at a nearby bluff.

"You can come out now, Dende," he called down.

Both Krillin and Gohan started, the former chuckling and rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, right, kinda forgot he was there."

"That's mean, Krillin," Gohan admonished as the young Namekian flew up.

Once at the same altitude, Dende took one look at Piccolo before putting his hands out. The warrior raised a brow as he felt his wounds vanish before his eyes.

"Impressive," he said. "Do I have powers like this?"

"No, you're a warrior Namekian," Dende answered. He bit his lip before seeming to come to a decision. "How do you know my name? You're not a Namekian I've met before."

"I fused with another warrior before fighting Freeza," Piccolo answered. "A warrior named Nail."

"Of course," Dende breathed, before shooting his gaze to the horizon. "Someone's coming! Someone… someone stronger than Freeza!"

Gohan, Piccolo, and Krillin all tensed for a moment - before relaxing as they all recognized the ki signature.

"Eh, it's fine, Dende," Krillin assured him. "It's just Goku."

Sure enough, not two seconds later the orange-clad Saiyan came to a halt in front of them, looking quite serene.

"Ah, so that big, mysterious ki was you, Piccolo," he said. "Dragon Balls must've revived you, huh?" Suddenly, Goku's serene smile melted into a petulant pout. "You could've left me Vegeta! I promised to have a rematch with him!"

"At the level you're at now, I doubt he would've been much of a challenge," Piccolo pointed out.

"That's a good point," Goku conceded. "Well, whatever. What's the plan?"

"With my resurrection, the Earth Dragon Balls should be active again," Piccolo mused. "Unfortunately, that would still leave Chiaotzu dead."

"A-And Piccolo and I are the only Namekians left," Dende lamented. "Without the Great Elder…"

A somber mood fell on the group, only for King Kai to cut in.

" _Never fear, everyone! I have a plan! Kami-Sama contacted me a little while ago. We'll use the Earth Dragon Balls to resurrect the Namekians killed by Freeza, and best-case scenario we'll revive the Great Elder, too."_

The five gaped for a second, Krillin, Gohan and Dende as much at a voice talking in their heads, until Piccolo spoke up.

"Will that work?" he asked. "My understanding is that the Great Elder died of old age, and that the Dragon Balls can't resurrect people who died of natural causes."

"Yeah, Kami went over that with me while I was training with him," Goku confirmed. "King Kai, what are you thinking?"

" _This is a gamble,"_ came the heavenly reply. " _But if the Great Elder's encounter with Freeza hastened his death, we might be able to get him back for a short while."_

"Kind of a long shot…"

" _I know, but that's the best plan I can come up with."_

"D-Do it."

All eyes turned to Dende.

"A-Are you sure?" Gohan asked.

"Yes," Dende replied, determination filling his voice. "Even if it doesn't bring back the Great Elder, it will bring back the rest of my race. There are elders who could take up the mantle; my elder, Muri, was one of them."

"Well… if you're sure," Gohan decided.

" _Alright, then, sounds like we have a plan. Just give us a few minutes for this, ah, 'Mr. Popo' to finish up the wish, and then we can see if this works or not."_

With nothing to do but wait, the Z-fighters drifted down to a nearby island, sitting and watching the sky, the other four confirming to Goku that the sky did indeed turn dark on Namek as well as Earth.

Finally, after a few minutes, the sky darkened. And just as importantly, all felt several dozen ki signatures flare back to life all over the planet.

"It worked…" Dende breathed, before shooting to his feet and throwing his hands in the air. "It works, it works!"

"I'll say!" Goku chimed in as he stared at the towering form of Porunga. "Check out the dragon! It's huge!" He paused, frowning. "What wish do we want, anyway?"

"I dunno," Krillin shrugged. "How long do these things take to recharge?"

"Yamcha," Piccolo firmly replied. "Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu will want to be resurrected together. And if the recharge time is too long, we can always come back."

There were nods all around at that. "Alright, sounds good!" Goku announced. "Let's go!"

As the Z-fighters flew off, Gohan couldn't help but feel they were all forgetting something.

Krillin had been clueless when he'd asked the bald martial artist. "Well, the only thing I can think of is-"

Both of their eyes widened.

"Bulma!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Homecoming**

 **AN: Be honest with me, guys. Am I going too fast? I feel like I might be going too fast.**

"I cannot believe you two!" Bulma screeched at Krillin and Gohan as the latter carried her by her armpits. "Six days! You're gone for six days, you show up and grab the Dragon Ball with Vegeta in tow, and then fly off again without a word!"

"She's your friend, Goku," Piccolo whispered to the Saiyan from where the two were flying ahead. "Is she usually like this?"

"Actually, I'm kinda surprised she's taking it this well," Goku replied.

The party - Goku and Piccolo in front, Gohan, Krillin, and Bulma behind - had just finished picking up the Capsule Corp. heir after managing to wish Yamcha back to life. Dende had flown off to go reunite with his old village shortly after dictating the wish, and as of now, they were heading to the Great Elder's residence, where they could feel his life force slowly fading. All around them they could feel the ki of what seemed like every Namekian on the planet, converging on the rock spire.

All… and yet, fewer than they should number. A village seemed to be missing.

' _Elder Tsuno's village,'_ Nail's memories helpfully supplied. ' _The one Vegeta attacked.'_

Not for the first time, Piccolo cursed the Saiyan Prince's name. Apparently, the wish to resurrect the Namekians had specified 'Freeza and his men', and Vegeta had already started his rebellion by then. Damn loopholes...

"And another thing!" Bulma continued. "I have gone _six days_ without a bath! That spaceship of yours better have one, Goku!"

"Don't worry," Goku called back in the conciliatory tone of the thoroughly whipped. "You get first dibs once we get back."

Bulma's expression immediately did a 180. "Oh, that's fine, then."

"Women," Piccolo muttered under his breath.

Blessed silence fell over the group as they came up to the Great Elder's residence, and soon it was in sight. The three flying freely came in for a landing outside the damaged building, Gohan carefully setting Bulma down before landing himself.

"So, uh, how do we do this?" Krillin wondered as he looked up at the barred door and the hole above. "Do we just-"

He was promptly cut off by Piccolo sweeping ahead, the door opening for him.

"Okay then," Krillin shrugged before following.

One by one, each of the Earthlings stepped into the cavernous main room, Bulma and Goku both gawking at the sheer bulk of the Great Elder.

"Welcome back, my friends…" the Great Elder croaked. "I thank you for ridding this world of a great evil." His body shifted slightly, his sightless gaze falling on Piccolo. "Step forward, my child."

The warrior did so, and the Great Elder placed a massive palm on his head. He held that position for a few minutes before withdrawing it with a weary sigh. "Ah, Nail. A better end than he would have gotten, I suppose. And you, Saiyan… I sense great power, great kindness in you. And… the Super Saiyan."

Both Gohan and Krillin perked up a bit at that. Vegeta had thrown the term around before, though _what_ a Super Saiyan was still remained unclear.

Clearly, Goku shared the sentiment. "What is a Super Saiyan, Great Elder?" he asked.

"Ask a thousand races and you will get a thousand answers," the Great Elder replied. "But at its core, it is power. And like all power, whether it is good or bad depends on who wields it."

Goku's shoulders sagged, as if some unseen tension had fled him. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." The Great Elder shifted again, his gaze drifting outside. "Ah, my children approach. Piccolo, would you bring Muri in before the rest?"

"Of course, Elder," Piccolo replied, inclining his head respectfully before leaving. Moments later, he returned, the elder Namekian just behind him.

"Muri," the Great Elder said. "You shall be the Great Elder, with my passing. Bring life back to the Dragon Balls, and prosperity to our people."

"Of course, Great Elder," Muri replied.

The Great Elder shifted back in his giant chair, and turned his gaze to the hole in the roof, where Namekians were streaming in, staring stricken at their leader.

"I am glad… to have known all of you, my children…"

The giant Namekian took one last shuddering breath… and then went still. All present hung their heads slightly in respect.

"Great Elder," Piccolo whispered. "Rest in peace."

There was silence for a moment more before Goku broke it in his usual cheerful manner. "So, what's the plan now, guys?"

"For now, I must confirm myself to the Namekians," Muri answered, before smiling at the Earth fighters. "And then, we need to see about getting the Dragon Balls back. After all you've done, resurrecting the last of your friends is the least we could do."

"And how long will this take?" Bulma inquired, eyes narrowed.

"Hmm… it would take…" Muri mused before beckoning Piccolo over and whispering in his ear.

"140 days," he answered.

"Right, 140 of your days before we can use the Dragon Balls again," Muri concurred. "You can stay, or if your ship is fast enough you can leave and then return."

"Ah, we should probably leave," Goku said, rubbing the back of his head. "My wife's gonna kill me if me'n Gohan stay out here too long."

"Yeah, I'd like to get back to Earth myself," Krillin agreed. "No offense."

"Baths… hot food… _beds…_ " Bulma moaned, drool dripping from her mouth.

Piccolo seemed to mull things over, before smiling and shaking his head. "Humans," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Thank you for the offer, Elder, but Earth is my home now. Besides, I still have all of Nail's memories. They will suffice."

"Very well," Muri stated agreeably. "Still, I must insist you stay one more day so that we can properly honor you."

"Will there be food?" Goku wondered, licking his lips.

"Actually, Namekians don't eat," Krillin piped up. "They just drink water."

"Aww!"

~o~

A few hours later, the round Capsule Corp. ship lifted off from Namek, bearing the five Earthlings home. On the planet itself, the Namekians tended to their gardens, started work on rebuilding their villages, and began dismantling Freeza's ship, casting the parts into the deep trenches of Namek's oceans.

Six days later, the Earthlings would return to their planet, and to old routines. The Namekians would get on with their lives, content in the isolation of their planet.

And though none were foolish enough to believe that there was nothing that could threaten their hard-won peace, they had no idea the forces that would soon be operating against them.

~o~

"What?!"

Cooler gaped at the holographic image of his father, wondering if he had heard him right. Not that he vocalized that thought; he liked living, thank you very much.

" _Yes, Freeza is missing,"_ King Cold, tyrannical emperor of the galaxy, spat. " _His ship's transponder has vanished, and he has failed to report in for months! Either he is playing pointless games, or someone has_ killed _him."_

Cooler's mind whirled as he considered and discarded possibilities. A prank was not like his brother. As much as they disliked each other, Cooler knew his brother maintained at least some pride in his professionalism. And it was unlikely he was simply stranded, either. At full power, he could be detected clear across the galaxy. That left someone killing him, and yet, that begged another question.

"Who could kill Freeza?" Cooler wondered aloud. "And more importantly, how could we not have heard of them?"

" _We both know that not all of the galaxy is mapped,"_ Cold replied, waving his hand dismissively. " _And what lies beyond the galactic rim is still a mystery, even to us. Most likely, Freeza went to subjugate a primitive society, and accidentally bit off more than he could chew."_

"If that's true, then his records should be… enlightening," Cooler slowly responded. It was a good theory his father had, but something was niggling at the back of his mind. A memory…

His eyes shot wide open. ' _The Saiyan!'_ he mentally exclaimed. ' _The child that got away when Planet Vegeta was destroyed! It's unlikely, but if he was a Super Saiyan… heh. Brother always was the one who put more stock in that old legend, and yet here I am, jumping to the same conclusion. Still, it's worth investigating."_

Out loud, he said, "I shall leave that to your men, Father. I have a lead of my own to pursue." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "It occurs to me that this will take me away from my duties for some time. If I may…"

" _Sorbet can handle the administrative side, and we have at least a few soldiers that can act as muscle,"_ King Cold answered the unspoken question. " _Good hunting, my son. And if you do find the culprit, avenge the honor of our family."_

And with that, the call ended.

Cooler took a moment to relax. Talking with his father was always exhausting; he had to be constantly on his guard, lest he let slip something that could get him killed. Finally, he called back to the members of his Armored Squadron who were manning the bridge.

"Salza, plot a course for Earth," he announced. "And Neiz, send our schedule for the next month to Sorbet, he'll be handling things while we're gone."

"Yes, milord," both soldiers replied.

As the ship accelerated to FTL, Cooler allowed a smile to creep across his face.

' _This is going to be fun.'_

~o~

"Alright, carry the five…" Gohan muttered to himself as he worked on his math homework. Astounding how quickly things changed. Almost as soon as he and Goku had arrived back at their Mt. Piaozu home, Chichi had parked the young half-breed's butt in his study chair. After a year of near constant training and fighting, it was an abrupt transition. Though, not an unwelcome one.

Right now, Goku should still be visiting Master Roshi's house on the way back from Kami's palace, where Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu had just returned from their resurrection. He'd been on a whirlwind tour, catching up on old friends. His death and subsequent resurrection was likely the catalyst.

Though they still didn't know where Lunch was.

"Oh, Gohan!"

Gohan looked up to see his mother, Chi-Chi, stride in, a glass of iced tea held on a tray in her hands.

"How's my little scholar doing?" she cooed. Not waiting for an answer, she plopped the iced tea down next to Gohan. "I thought you might be thirsty, so I made you some tea!"

"Thanks, mom," Gohan replied, taking a sip as he continued on his homework. "Oh, by the way, Dad's back."

"He is?" Chi-Chi replied, her face drawing into an annoyed scowl. "Well, I won't begrudge him meeting his friends, but that man has chores to do!"

And with that, she stomped out. Gohan shrugged, and went back to work. Better Goku than him.

He only made it through a few more problems before he heard voices coming from the dining room. The tones were very familiar, his parents arguing about something. Again. Before Raditz, Gohan would've tried to ignore it and gone back to his studies. Instead, he slipped out of his chair amd opened the door a tad, his ear at the crack.

"- And I said no!" Chi-Chi barked. "Camping?! He's a year behind, he still has a ton of catching up to do!"

"C'mon, Chi-Chi, you've kept him cooped up in here for months! Kids need time outdoors, look!"

There was a rustling of paper before Chi-Chi continued. "What is this?"

"It's a research thing Bulma gave me when I last visited her. All scientific and stuff. And look, it says boys need exercise outdoors for healthy development."

There was a pregnant silence before Chi-Chi let out a sigh. "How long were you planning to camp?"

"Eh, two, maybe three days."

There was another pause, presumably as Chi-Chi mulled things over.

"Alright, I suppose he's earned a break."

Gohan grinned, and slowly closed the door before climbing back into his chair. Sure enough, he'd barely done so when Goku threw the door open, grinning.

"Hey, Gohan, do you wanna go camping for a couple days with Krillin and Oolong?" he asked.

"Sure!" Gohan immediately replied. "When are we going?"

"Tomorrow. It's a little late to be setting out today," came the answer. "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Hey, Chi-Chi, when's dinner?"

Chuckling at his Dad's appetite and the shouted answer that it elicited, Gohan turned back to his homework. It would be fun to get outdoors for a while again. And for once, it wouldn't have anything trying to kill him. He shuddered. Strong as he was now, that damn dinosaur still haunted his nightmares.

~o~

"We have arrived at Earth, Lord Cooler," Salza reported.

"Excellent," Cooler replied. "Open the viewing screens."

On cue, the image of a blue-and-green planet streaked with white clouds popped up on screen. It was unremarkable, similar to thousands such planets scattered across the galaxy.

"Such a small planet," Cooler mused. "One shot would suffice." He chuckled briefly. "Of course, that would miss the point of an investigation. Neiz, I want a full scan of the planet."

"Yes, Lord Cooler!" the amphibious soldier replied, immediately tapping in the requisite commands.

In truth, the scanners weren't _entirely_ necessary. Cooler could feel ki, a little trick he'd picked up from a primitive race before exterminating them. Unfortunately, whoever had power on the planet was keeping it well-hidden, even from his senses. The scanners on board the ship were not only more powerful, they had an advanced filtering program installed to measure the potential maximum of even suppressed fighters.

"Oh ho!" Neiz exclaimed after several minutes. "My, this is an unusual planet, isn't it?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean?" Dore grunted, shambling over to where Neiz sat and looking at the screen. "That can't be right…"

"Report, if you please, instead of standing around like slack-jawed idiots."

"Apologies, Lord Cooler," Neiz simpered, pushing Dore away. "I was simply surprised to find that there are an even seven power signatures that the computer is telling me could reach into the five-digit mark."

"Really now?" Cooler queried, genuinely surprised. That many high-level signatures was damn rare outside of the PTO's fortress planets. "Well, that's unusual. And the Saiyan?"

"I'm afraid the computer is still filtering the data," Neiz replied. "Still, it should have a lock by tomorrow."

"Acceptable," Cooler decided. "Prepare for battle. If the Saiyan is on this planet, and if he killed my brother, then we are in for a very tough fight."

~o~

"Hmm…" Oolong hummed as he monitored the boiling vats of rice over the massive fire they'd built. "I'd say the rice is almost done."

"Ah, good, the stew's coming along nicely, too," Krillin added as he stirred a large pot. "Soon as Goku gets back with the fish, we should be ready to eat."

Noting that the fire had burned down somewhat, the bald martial artist reached for another plank of wood, only to come up blank.

"Hey, Gohan!" Krillin called out to where the demi-Saiyan was building a riverside rock castle. "We need some more firewood!"

"On it!" Gohan called back in reply. As he jogged up to the pile of logs they'd set up, he couldn't help but hum a cheerful tune. This was fun, even the firewood chopping. That required precision ki-work, precision he still needed practice with.

Grabbing a log from the top of the pile, Gohan heaved it into the air, jumped up, and swung his hand in a high-speed series of chops that left the log cut into manageable planks. Tapping to the ground, Gohan heard the satisfying sound of the logs clacking together - and then flushed as the even clacking degraded into a jumbled mess.

Looking behind him, he found that though most of the logs were nice and straight, some had gotten cut crooked. He shrugged. Well, they were going to get burned, anyway.

"Firewood's done!" Gohan called out to Krillin.

"And I've got the fish!" Goku announced as he floated up from where he'd been fishing down the river, a massive fish bigger than him slung over one shoulder. "Sorry it's a little small!"

"I swear, his appetite never ceases to amaze," Oolong said, shaking his head ruefully.

"I know, right?" Krillin agreed as he took the pot off the fire.

Goku, oblivious to his friends' amazement at his appetite, threw down the fish and raised his arm to cut it - only to freeze, his gaze darting to the tree line. Oolong glanced about as Krillin and Gohan stood, their eyes flinty and looking the same way Goku was.

"I know you're there," he announced, his voice bereft of any of its usual goofiness. "Show yourself."

Four figures floated out from behind the trees. Three wore what at first glance appeared to be the standard armor of Freeza's soldiers, though a second glance would reveal key differences, namely a purple bodysuit instead of blue or black, no right shoulder guard, and different detail design for the armor.

All four were clearly aliens. The three armored ones consisted of what looked for all the world like a blue-skinned blond man, a towering, green-skinned and wild-haired man, and a bipedal salamander.

But it was the figure in the center, hanging back ever so slightly, that drew their attention. Because he looked distressingly similar to Freeza, in general body shape at least, though the details were quite different.

"You must be the Saiyan," the Freeza-like alien stated, pointing at Goku. "The hair, your age… it all fits."

"Oh, really?" Goku retorted, sliding his right foot back slightly. "You found me. Congrats. Now, what do you want?"

"You will not talk to Lord Cooler like that, you-!" the blue-skinned one snarled, lunging forward only to be halted by this 'Lord Cooler'.

"Calm yourself, Salza. He is a Saiyan. To expect anything even approaching common courtesy is a fool's errand." Cooler turned his gaze on Goku. "To answer your question, I am here to see if you killed my brother."

"Your brother?" Goku breathed, eyes widening.

"Yes. You may know him as Freeza."

And then he _moved_.

Faster than almost anyone there could track, he darted forward, fist drawn back for a punch. The blow met nothing but air as Goku leaped back to the opposite shore.

"Ho," Cooler breathed, straightening up. "Perhaps this will be interesting after all. Men, kill the riff-raff. I will handle the Saiyan."

And with that, the two combatants darted forward, their forearms meeting over the river as each tried to slam their elbow into the other. A punch was thrown and blocked, as was a kick, and then more and more blows raining down in a back-and-forth block-and-strike.

Finally, a hole opened up in Goku's guard, Cooler taking the opportunity to wrap his tail around Goku's ankle and throw him into the waterfall pool they had drifted over. For a moment, Cooler waited, the waters still and silent.

His patience was rewarded with an energy sphere shooting out from the water. He blurred, dodging out of the way, and then evaded again as another energy ball shot out of the water. Without even looking, he raised his arm, catching Goku's flying mule kick, though it did push him back a bit.

"Nice try, Saiyan," he taunted. "That might have worked on my brother, but it won't work on me!"

The Arcosian punctuated his point by throwing a knee strike at Goku. To his dismay, his opponent caught it, vaulted over him, and then slammed a kick into his head that sent him careening into the ground.

He landed in a three-point stance, the stone cracking beneath him, and immediately dove out of the way as Goku slammed his fist into the ground, firing a salvo of death beams behind him. Goku merely deflected them with his free hand, and flew off after Cooler. They both tore skyward until a hairpin turn had Cooler diving right at Goku. Punches were thrown and caught simultaneously, the sky roaring from the impact.

It was Goku who broke the lock, twisting around and throwing Cooler straight down. By the time the Arcosian righted his flight, it was too late for him to dodge the energy blast coming at him. He threw his palms out, catching the blast and straining against it. For a moment, everything hung in the balance, and then Cooler tossed it away.

Still, it was a distraction, and Goku made him pay for it by slamming his elbow into his opponent's kidneys. Cooler retaliated by spinning around and slamming one leg into Goku's temple. A right cross from Goku was dodged, a left straight from Cooler blocked, and then it was back-and-forth again, descending downward.

Finally, the two broke the exchange, coming to a halt on different rocks jutting out from a sizable lake as they assessed each other.

"I must say, I'm impressed, Saiyan," Cooler calmly stated. "I can see how my brother would underestimate you."

He smirked at the slight widening of Goku's eyes. "Oh, yes, Freeza is far stronger than he revealed to you." The smirk became downright vicious. "And so am I, though he held the advantage for a long time. No longer, though. Be honored! You are the first to ever see this transformation."

Goku's eyes widened further as Cooler's power suddenly began shooting up, his chest ballooning in size. Remembering Piccolo's account of his fight, Goku shot forward, intent on interrupting the transformation, only for the burst of power from Cooler's legs growing to knock him away.

By the time Goku landed on his old rock, Cooler had almost completed the transformation. He now stood almost twice his previous height, the bone covering his head transformed into a spiked crest. Two additional spikes jutted from the backs of his wrists. The worst, though were his eyes, a deep, uniform red.

Goku caught a glimpse of a slightly demented grin before a bone mask slotted into place over Cooler's mouth, completing the transformation.

"I'LL CRUSH YOU!" he shouted, charging forward.

"Crap!"

~o~

Gohan eyed the three aliens in front of him as Goku and this… Cooler faced off. Three on one was hardly ideal, but from the power he could feel none of them were as strong as the Freeza they'd faced.

"Krillin," he ordered. "Go to Korin's, get us some senzu. I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"But what about you?" Krillin demanded. "I can't leave you here to fight them alone!"

"What?" the salamander alien sneered. "A little shrimp like you fighting all three of us? What a-"

Neiz was promptly cut off by Gohan's foot impacting his schnoz, sending him skipping off the river and into the treeline.

"Krillin, go!"

"You little brat!" Dore shouted, swinging a kick at the demi-Saiyan.

As Krillin flew off, Gohan caught the kick on his forearm, only for Salza to knee him in the back of the head. The blow didn't do much, and the young boy quickly recovered and let himself fall on his hands, rearing back and catching a charging Salza in a mule kick. And that left him open for Dore to catch him with a kick to the gut and punt him skyward.

Once again, it didn't hurt, and Gohan took the opportunity to fire an energy blast downward. Both Dore and Salza tore skyward away from the blast, Neiz just following behind.

The green-skinned alien arrived first with a knee strike that Gohan used to vault up and kick Dore straight in the gut. Salza tried an overhead smash that Gohan dodged, and was kicked in the back for his troubles. And Neiz took a punch to the face that sent him spinning.

All three members of the Armored Squadron fell back to regroup, nursing some painful bruises, while Gohan watched and waited.

' _I can do this,'_ he thought, fists clenching in determination. "HAAAAAA!"

A blue aura sprang up around Gohan as he drew upon his maximum power. The scouters the Armored Squadron wore dutifully beeped and relayed the information to their users.

"This-This is impossible," Salza breathed. "His power… it's increasing even more!"

"That wasn't his maximum?" Neiz yelped.

On cue, all three scouters exploded, and Gohan shifted into a combat stance.

"We… may be in trouble," Salza admitted.

"Not if we attack him all at once," Dore countered. "He's crap against multiple opponents. We surround him, and beat him down."

"I don't think he's going to let us…" Neiz whimpered.

"DYAAAH!" Gohan shouted as he proved the amphibian right by flying straight at them at speeds they could only barely track. The Armored Squadron managed to scatter in time, but Gohan merely blurred before slamming his leg into Dore's chest, leaving the green-skinned warrior gasping for breath. Another punch sent him careening down into the ground, shattering the rock and throwing up a huge cloud of dust.

By this time the other two members of the Armored Squadron had regrouped. Or, at least, one of them. Salza was nowhere in sight.

Gohan turned a hard gaze on Neiz, who for his part was quaking in his boots and clutching his hands together. The demi-Saiyan charged up a small blast in his right hand before loosing it at Neiz. Naturally, he dodged, but he found Gohan waiting for him, foot drawn back for a devastating kick.

It never landed; instead, Gohan had to hastily evade a crackling blast of energy.

"Damnation!" Neiz spat as Gohan zoomed back in, slamming his foot into the amphibian's gut and sending him flying into the ground as well.

With two opponents down, Gohan turned to find Salza - and was promptly distracted by an absolutely _colossal_ explosion of blue energy in the sky.

"Dad…" he breathed. And then his stomach erupted in pain.

"Word of advice, kid," Salza sneered as he pushed his ki blade a bit further into Gohan's gut, eliciting a pained twitch. "Don't gawk at the pretty explosions until _all_ your opponents are dead."

Weakly, Gohan tried to grab at Salza, but with the energy blade in his gut he didn't have the strength.

"Still, be proud. You pushed the Armored Squadron further than anyone else." He withdrew the blade with a wet squelch, letting Gohan's limp form fall into the river below.

Salza's hand automatically went to his scouter to confirm the kill, only then remembering that it was broken. He let out an annoyed tsk before levitating back down to the ground next to the crater Dore was lying in. Thankfully, he was alive and mostly intact.

"I see you're alive, Dore," Salza stated.

"Ow…" the green-skinned alien groaned. "Did someone get the number of the spaceship that hit me?"

"Oh, get up you big lummox," Salza snapped, lightly kicking his subordinates' side. "We should probably check on Lord Cooler, see if he's finished."

"I'm fine too…" Neiz weakly announced from his crater.

"That's good."

Salza's eyes shot up to the green-skinned, cape-and-turban-clad form of Piccolo descending towards them, his eyes icy cold.

"It means I get to kill you myself for what you did to my student."

"A Namek? What are you-"

Salza never finished that sentence as Piccolo's hand tore a new hole in his torso. The blue-skinned man blinked, whimpered, and then slumped over, dead.

"Hey, Salza! What's going on up there? Salza!"

Face still grim, Piccolo floated up and simply dropped an energy ball on top of the two prone aliens. He had bigger things to worry about. Namely, the absolutely _massive_ ki-powers he could feel a few miles away. One as dark and twisted as Freeza's, and the other full of rage and sorrow - and _familiar_.

' _Goku… what's happening to you?'_

~o~

"GAH!" Goku shouted as he slammed into another cliff, shattering it into a million pieces. The martial artist had clearly seen better days. Burns, bruises, and small cuts littered his exposed skin, and his orange overshirt was simply gone, the pants and blue undershirt full of holes. And as he hauled himself to his feet again, the perpetrator of his torment landed in front of him, as casual as you please.

"I'm impressed I haven't killed you yet," Cooler stated. "Then again, you Saiyans always were stubbornly hard to kill."

"Gee, thanks," Goku weakly replied, his mind furiously trying to find a way out of this mess. The 10x Kaio-Ken had done nothing to help, and the 20x had only slowed him down a little. And no way was this guy going to give him time for a Genki-Dama. "I don't suppose you could spare me?"

"Hah! And let you get strong enough to defeat me?" Cooler scoffed. "I don't think so!"

The Arcosian raised his hand, energy forming within.

' _Sorry, guys,'_ Goku lamented. ' _I don't think I can do it.'_

And then Gohan's ki vanished, as if it were a candle that had been snuffed out.

' _No.'_

The sounds of the outside world - the water, the wind, the birds, Cooler's energy blast - all faded away. He desperately cast his senses out to try and catch a hint, any hint, of Gohan's ki.

There was nothing. Not with Cooler's massive well of power blanketing everything in the area.

' _No!'_

Goku faintly felt his teeth grinding together. He didn't care. He felt the denial slip away and the anger come, welcoming and relishing it for only the second time in his life.

And, deep inside him, Son Goku felt something _break_.

"NO!"

Golden fire roared to life around him, scattering the air and water and shattering rock dozens of yards away. Cooler, eyes wide, took a step back as the power of the Super Saiyan buffeted his skin and senses.

"What is this?" he demanded. "What are you?!"

"I understand now," Goku said, his voice deathly calm. "What Ginyu and Vegeta and the Great Elder were saying. You came to this planet to find a Super Saiyan, didn't you, Cooler? Well, you've got one now!"

Cooler gaped for a second more, then composed himself and raised an arm back to launch the energy blast he'd been charging. He never got the chance, as a vice-like grip latched onto his arm.

"Gnh!" he grunted as he saw Goku glaring down at him.

"You're just like your brother, killing innocent people just to satisfy your own selfish desires," he snarled. "Well, no more! You die today, Cooler!"

And with that, Goku slammed his fist into Cooler's gut. And then he did it again. And again. And again. Cooler doubled over, and Goku wrenched his arm up, before slamming a kick into his jaw that sent him flying upwards, his mask shattering.

Calmly, still calmly, Goku charged up an energy blast and hurled it at Cooler. The Arcosian had just recovered when the blast hit him dead on in a massive fireball.

Goku grimly watched as the smoke cleared, revealing Cooler, battered, bleeding, and furious, but very much alive.

"Damn… you…" he growled, his whole body quivering from rage. "You Saiyan _ape_! You will die, you and your planet with you!"

Raising his finger, Cooler smirked as a crackling energy ball the size of a building burst into existence above him.

"Try stopping this!" he crowed. And then he threw it down.

For a moment, Goku simply glared at the ball, and then he crouched down and cupped his hands behind him.

"Ka… me… ha… me… HA!"

His hands shot forward, unleashing a torrent of blue energy that swept aside the Death Ball like it wasn't even there, slamming into Cooler and taking him into the atmosphere and out of sight. For several agonizing minutes the energy burned at the Arcosian, and at some point he must have passed out, for when he opened them again he was in space, still propelled by the Kamehameha.

' _Damn… him… Where am I?'_

A glance behind him revealed the Sun, looming ever closer.

' _The system's star. Perfect. I just need to blow that up and let them all freeze to death in the dark and cold.'_

A beat, and then his eyes widened in realization.

' _Wait. I'm heading right for it!'_

Frantically, Cooler flailed at the Kamehameha, trying to arrest his momentum. Weak as he was, though, it was futile. The blast carried him into the Sun, and not even a being of his power could resist the power of a star for long.

Soon, not even a trace remained.

~o~

Goku let his hands fall as the Kamehameha vanished from sight, tracking Cooler's ki. When the signature passed the Moon, he let himself relax, the golden aura fading, letting the weight of his exhaustion, injuries, and grief hit him all at once.

"Gohan…" he moaned, slumping down to the ground.

"Good job, Goku."

The Saiyan whirled on Piccolo, grabbing him by the front of his mantle.

"Gohan is _dead,_ and all you have to say is 'Good job'?!" he snarled. "I thought you'd changed, I really did."

"Calm down, Goku," Piccolo ordered, pushing the Saiyan away from him. "Cast your senses out. I think you might find a pleasant surprise."

Goku tamped down the urge to tear Piccolo's head off, and did as he was told. Almost immediately he felt the blazing beacon of Gohan's ki.

"How-" he breathed.

"You're damn lucky I was already on the way with Senzu when this fight started," Piccolo replied, a smug grin on his face. "I passed on the Senzu to Krillin and went ahead to where the fight was. I couldn't stop him from getting stabbed, but I did take down his attackers, and with Krillin at ready I knew Gohan was in good hands."

Goku gaped for a second before slumping forward, gripping the Namekian's mantle like a life preserver.

"Thank you, Piccolo," he whispered.

"Of course, Goku," Piccolo replied, before once again pushing Goku away. "I think you should go see your son."

"Yeah, just one thing," Goku agreed, sighing. "This was Freeza's _brother_ , Piccolo. If he has other family…"

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. He didn't need to; Piccolo immediately grasped the implications.

"Then we train, and deal with them when they come," he firmly stated, only a slight shaking of his clenched fists betraying any anxiety. "For now, it's time to rest and heal."

Goku nodded, and the two took off, flying back to where Krillin and Gohan were. And yet, even as they did so, they couldn't help but feel they were forgetting something.

~o~

"Aw, jeez," Oolong groaned as he crawled out from where he'd been hiding. "The campsite's wrecked! And I don't know where anyone is! Aw, this blows…"

"Hrrr…"

Gulping, Oolong slowly turned around to see an Allosaurus looming over him. A very _large_ Allosaurus.

"Ah, come on!" the pig groaned, hastily transforming into a rocket and flying away. "Dammit, now I'm never gonna find them!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Logistics**

 **AN: Just a reminder that, by necessity, I am taking quite a few liberties with many of the relationships here. Toriyama was very bad about giving us details on a lot of the relationships in the series, leaving us fanfic writers to fill in the gaps.**

 **Let me tell ya, it's not easy.**

"I will ask you only one more time. Who killed my son?"

Privately, King Cold wished he could just blow up this damn rock and be done with it, but the old coot in front of him had stubbornly refused to divulge any information despite Cold spending a solid hour killing Namekians in front of him and repeating the question. Hopefully, the squirming child held by the neck in his hands would persuade the damn slug.

"I will not," Muri growled, where he was held kneeling to the ground by two of Cold's soldiers. "We have our honor, and I will not sully it by betraying our saviors to the likes of you!"

Cold sighed and idly snapped the child's neck, though not before noting the defiant glare it had been shooting at him.

"I see my efforts are wasted on you," Cold sighed, dropping the Namekian child to the ground. "Men! Return to the ship. I shall follow soon."

Both soldiers saluted, and took off for orbit, where his ship floated. Cold gave it a couple of minutes, before silently rising into the air and conjuring up a Death Ball on one finger. A careless flick of his wrist sent the ball into the planet below, burrowing beneath the crust and then exploding, turning Planet Namek into a new asteroid field.

And yet… Cold didn't feel the satisfaction he usually did from blowing up a planet. Most likely it was the still-defiant glare on that old Namekian's face, even as his race's doom destroyed his world.

Letting out a tsk of annoyance, Cold took flight back to his ship, entering the hanger bay in the bottom. Soldiers and technicians scattered in his wake as he made for the bridge, and work paused for just the barest of seconds when he arrived.

As Cold sat himself down on his throne, most of the bridge personnel went back to work. Only one had the courage to approach the towering Frost Demon.

"Your Majesty," Harkon stated, kneeling and bowing his head respectfully. "I bring news from Cooler."

Harkon was one of Cold's Generals, four soldiers with a power level north of 100,000 and proven command and administrative skill. Each commanded a quarter of Cold's army, and were called upon for the more difficult pacification campaigns, whether against new discoveries or revolts. As a result, all four had a fearsome reputation, often able to induce a planet to surrender just by the knowledge that they were there.

Harkon, specifically, was a Shongairi, a rather canine-esque species with fur, digitigrade legs, and long snouts. His fur was dark grey streaked with silver, and predatory yellow eyes gleamed from under his brow. His uniform consisted of long undersuit pants and the standard gloves and boots, with a Ginyu-style armor on top.

"Oh?" Cold said, perking up slightly. "I do hope he's had better luck than I. It would be a… shame to let Freeza's murderer get away due to lack of information."

Harkon didn't flinch as the glass observation blister cracked suddenly. "He certainly found something, your Majesty," he stated, choosing his words with care. "Apparently he had his Armored Squadron transmit the visual data via their scouters, because when his ship arrived there was a wealth of information aboard. Lord Cooler, sadly, was not on board, nor was the Armored Squadron."

Gravity seemed to almost increase five-fold as Cold's power flared at that news.

"Not on board, you say," Cold stated, his voice icier than the void outside the ship, but his face unchanged. "And what did this data show?"

Harkon couldn't help but sweat a little at his liege-lord's behavior. "A Saiyan, your Majesty," he replied. "Cooler was facing off against a Saiyan. A very powerful one. On a planet called Earth; I believe it was on one of the lists for possible sale, pending a cleaning job."

Gravity returned to normal as Cold withdrew his power. "A Super Saiyan," Cold spat. "I should have suspected. Freeza might have gotten caught off guard, but not Cooler, and only a Super Saiyan could have killed them both."

King Cold fell into a contemplative silence. The entire bridge crew held their breath for several tense minutes before their king spoke again.

"Tell your fellow Generals to drop what they're doing and meet us at our destination, Harkon," he ordered.

"All of them, your majesty?" the wolf-like alien confirmed. "That will take several months."

"Good," Cold said. "If I am to face off against a Super Saiyan, I must prepare. Set a course for Planet Freeza 18, it has the facilities I need."

Harkon frowned. Planet Freeza 18 was a ball of ice, inhabited only by some researchers and an orbital refueling station. Ah well, his was not to wonder why.

"At once, your majesty."

Cold's ship rapidly accelerated to light speed, not knowing that they were being watched.

~o~

It was a subdued group that flew back to Mt. Paozu. Gohan kept absentmindedly rubbing at his gut where Salza had stabbed him, Goku kept glancing back at his son, matched by equally concerned glances in his direction by Piccolo, and Krillin was deep in thought. Hell, even Oolong was quiet, mostly due to being safely inside his aircar, which had somehow survived the battle unscathed.

As such, King Kai calling Goku out of the blue was a somewhat welcome reprieve.

" _Goku! I only just checked Earth, what happened?!"_

" _This guy named Cooler tried to kill us,"_ Goku telepathically replied. " _Said he was Freeza's brother."_

" _Damnation!"_ King Kai spat. " _Well, there goes that plan."_

Goku frowned. " _Plan?"_ he demanded. " _What plan?"_

The saiyan got the distinct impression that his old master was _embarrassed. "The plan to keep the rest of Freeza's family from finding you!"_ came the response. " _Ugh, Freeza was supposed to disappear with no clues, leading them on a wild goose chase across the galaxy. Either they'd never find you, or you'd get strong enough in the intervening years to kick their asses. Well, nothing for it, so I suppose I'd better tell you. King Cold is almost certainly heading to Earth now."_

For some reason, that name sparked a frisson of cold dread that ran down Goku's spine. He was vaguely aware of his companions sending him concerned glances, but ignored them in favor of King Kai.

" _Alright, how strong is he and when is he getting here?"_ Goku immediately asked.

" _... Really?"_ came the response. " _No questions about his relation to Freeza?"_

" _Doesn't matter. What matters is that he's coming, and we need to prepare. So, how strong is he?"_ Goku retorted.

" _... Point. I'm afraid I can't help you much on either front. I know he's stronger than both Freeza and Cooler, but that's it, and I don't know how long it will take for his forces to assemble. A month, at the least, but almost certainly more."_

King Kai chuckled grimly at the shock that rippled through the telepathic link. " _Oh, yes. King Cold is of the 'throw minions at the problem' school of empire management. Problem is that he's got enough minions to make it work."_

Goku sighed and closed his eyes. No rest for the weary, then. " _Thank you, King Kai."_

" _No problem, Goku. Talk to me if you need anything!"_

"Dad?" Gohan asked nervously as King Kai ended the talk. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when we get home, Gohan," Goku sighed. "This is something we all need to hear."

Now the flight was even more awkward, though thankfully it was the last leg and thusmercifully short. All four touched down outside of the Son house, Oolong's aircar landing shortly afterward.

"Oh, you're home early," Chi-Chi stated as she stepped out of the house. "Did something go wro-"

She froze, taking in the tattered state of Goku and Gohan's clothing, as well as Piccolo's presence.

"W-What happened to you?" she numbly breathed.

"We were attacked," Goku grimly stated. "Freeza's brother, Cooler. He and his men almost killed both me and Gohan."

Chi-Chi's eyes zeroed in on the ragged hole in the stomach of Gohan's gi, her mind connecting the dots. She slumped to the ground, shivering, prompting Goku to walk up to her and hug her close to him. Muffled sobs sounded out, her husband stroking her hair and back. He was aware of the rest of the group heading inside, but Chi-Chi took priority right now.

"Sssh, Chi-Chi. We're alive. We're fine," he said soothingly, over and over. Eventually, the sobs quieted, the shaking stopped, and she pulled back from the embrace.

"O-Oh God…" she breathed. "Freeza's _brother_ … does he have any more family?"

"Yes," Goku replied simply.

"Alright," Chi-Chi said, rubbing her eyes and standing. "Let's go inside and talk to the others. We need to discuss training."

Goku nodded, and took Chi-Chi's hand. The two went back into the house, finding Gohan, Krillin, and Oolong at the table, silently nursing cups of hot chocolate; Piccolo was leaning against one wall, looking pained.

"Are you alright, Mom?" Gohan asked as they walked in.

"No, but I can manage," she replied. "Goku, you have something to tell us?"

Goku nodded, and stepped forward. "Cooler wasn't the only relative Freeza had," he announced. "There's at least one more: King Cold. King Kai just told me that he's coming to Earth, likely with an army in tow. And that he's stronger than both Freeza and Cooler."

"I'm fighting!" Gohan immediately announced. "Cooler… he-he could have attacked us _here_. At _home_. And a fight like that would have killed you by accident, Mom." His fists clenched, cracking the mug he was holding. "I _won't_ let that happen."

"You're… you're right, Gohan," Chi-Chi reluctantly agreed, prompting everyone in the room besides Goku to look at her in shock. "I-I don't want you to fight, but… I think the only way for you to be safe is for you to be strong."

Gohan gaped for a moment before rushing forward and wrapping her up in a hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Gohan!" she squeaked. "Can't… breathe!"

"Oh! Sorry, Mom…" Gohan muttered, floating away sheepishly.

"We'll need to alert everyone else," Piccolo stated.

"I can tell Bulma and Yamcha," Oolong replied dismissively. "You guys're going to have to find Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu on your own, though. Those guys have practically vanished off the face of the Earth!"

"Piccolo, you'll need to handle Gohan's training, at least at first," Goku decided. "I need to master the Super Saiyan. That leaves Krillin to-"

The Saiyan blinked, realising that at some point Krillin had left. "Krillin?"

~o~

Krillin sighed again as he flew over the ocean towards the Turtle House. He felt a little bad about leaving Goku and the rest hanging like that, but… honestly? It probably didn't matter. He'd fight, of course, but if King Cold really was stronger than Freeza, he'd never make a dent.

These feelings of inadequacy weren't new, of course. They'd been lurking in the back of the martial artist's mind since the 23rd Budokai. Piccolo had been so far out of his league it wasn't even funny, and while he'd kind of ended up making it his business to do well against people way out of his league, it was liable to get him killed sooner rather than later. And he was painfully aware that the Dragon Balls weren't going to be able to bring him back anymore.

It all came down to that question. What could he do? The answer he came up with was always "not much."

When he finally came up on the Turtle House, he didn't go inside. Instead, he sat on the beach, watching the stars, and eventually the sunrise. By the time he felt Master Roshi sit down next to him, it was already morning.

"Something on your mind, hmm?" the old man wondered. "Perhaps that new video I found under your-"

"Master Roshi!" Krillin exclaimed, his face red.

"Ho ho ho, nothing to be ashamed about, lad!" Roshi chuckled, alecherous grin on his face. "I remember being that age, only back in my day we didn't have videos!" The martial arts master laughed a few seconds more before sobering up. "But I don't think that's what's actually on your mind."

"No," Krillin sighed. "It's this King Cold guy Goku told us about. Yet another threat against the Earth. I just…"

Roshi stayed silent, waiting for his student to finish the thought.

Finally, Krillin fell on his back, eyes going up to the sky. "I don't want to be useless. And… I'm so far behind already. What can I really contribute?"

For a moment, both martial artists were silent, before Roshi stood up and held his hand out to Krillin.

"Let me show you something that might be able to help," he said as he hauled Krillin to his feet.

Turning out to sea, Roshi slipped off his sunglasses and clapped his hands together. Veins popped up on his forehead and arms as he concentrated, Krillin's eyebrows rising at the amount of ki concentrated between his hands. After a few seconds, Roshi's hands spread apart, ki crackling between them.

"Bankoku Bikkuri Shou!" he shouted, the energy shooting out like a lightning bolt.

And, much like a lightning bolt, it fizzled after a few hundred yards.

"Eheheheheh," Roshi sheepishly laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "It's more impressive when you hit something with it."

"No, that's amazing!" Krillin exclaimed. "One of Cooler's goons used a similar technique! I'd be happy to learn it, Master Roshi. Though… why me?

"Why you?" Roshi parrotted, bewildered, as he slipped his sunglasses on. "You're my student! I have every right to teach you my techniques!"

"No, I mean, why not Goku or Yamcha?" Krillin asked again. "They're your students, too."

"Yes, they are, but the Turtle School is not the core of their skills," Roshi answered. "Goku has had so many more masters, he's moved quite away from my original teachings into some sort of...synthesis. It's really quite impressive. And Yamcha already had his own style when I taught him; I merely helped him refine it. Besides, neither of them have been living with me for the past decade or so."

Krillin gaped for a second, before bowing respectfully.

"I thank you for your tutelage, master," he humbly stated.

"Now, now, none of that!" Roshi waved off, turning and walking back to the house. "C'mon, we can start in the afternoon. In the meantime, you've gotta show me that video!"

Krillin groaned, but good-naturedly. This was the way it was with Master Roshi, after all. And honestly, some boring old unwinding might be just what the doctor ordered, at least for now.

~o~

Tenshinhan sighed as Piccolo flew off. More invaders; it was like the Saiyans all over again.

That connection made him flinch as it dredged up memories. Memories of fighting - and dying - against an unstoppable force.

Still, they wouldn't all be fighting Cold at once, unlike against Nappa. Most likely the army Piccolo had mentioned would be dispersing to attack targets all over the world, and those were opponents he could face.

He felt more than saw Chiaotzu float up next to him. "Tenshinhan? What did Piccolo say?"

"We're going to be under attack again soon," the martial artist replied grimly. "This time it's Freeza's father or something." His face drew up in a grimace. "Chiaotzu, I really think you should sit this one out."

"No!" Chiaotzu suddenly shouted, causing Tenshinhan to take a step back in surprise. "I-I'm sick of being useless! Of-Of dying while everyone else fights! I'm going to train, and I'm going to join this fight, and I'm going to _help!_ "

As Tenshinhan stared into his partner's face, he found something he hadn't ever seen: a competitive fire, a _drive_. Chiaotzu had never shared his passion for martial arts, for developing his skills and power for their own sake. And though he had been interested in the competition in their little circle at first, he hadn't ever taken to it with the same enthusiasm the rest did. He just… coasted.

And looking at Chiaotzu's eyes, Tenshinhan found himself filled with pity for whoever was going to fight him.

"You have an idea?" he guessed.

Chiaotzu grinned, before speaking telepathically. " _I've been kind of neglecting this side of my skills, haven't I?"_

To punctuate the point, Chiaotzu picked up a rock with his telekinesis. Then another, and another, and soon a hundred rocks were swirling around him, each in a slightly different pattern. The level of control necessary was… dizzying, he had to admit.

"Krillin mentioned a member of the Ginyu force, far weaker than the rest but with the psychic powers to compete," he continued, sending one of the rocks flying into a nearby bluff with enough force to shatter it utterly. "This… This is what I'm good at, Tien. And now I know I can develop it to fight at a higher level."

Tenshinhan continued staring for a moment, then grinned. "Yeah, I think that'll work," he agreed. "Spars before lunch?" Chiaotzu nodded. "Alright. You work on that, I think I'll pester King Kai a bit about that Spirit Bomb technique he mentioned."

~o~

Bulma glanced up from where she was tinkering on something - the technology her father had salvaged while rebuilding Goku's spaceship was _fascinating!_ \- when she heard an aircar touch down outside. That was odd; Oolong was supposed to have been with Goku and Krillin for another day, at least.

Curious, the scientist stood, wincing at her sore muscles protesting the action, and climbed down the stairs. She found Yamcha already there as Oolong disembarked from the air car, looking uncharacteristically grave.

"So, who died?" Yamcha asked jokingly.

"Freeza's brother," Oolong casually stated, grinning as Yamcha and Bulma dropped their jaws in horrified shock. "Yeah, that was about everyone else's reaction, too. And now we've got what I'm pretty sure is his father coming to Earth to kill us all."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I need a goddamn beer," Oolong remarked, strolling off into the kitchen. "Or maybe something stronger."

Bulma and Yamcha stayed standing in gape-mouthed shock for another few minutes before both staggered over to the nearest couch and plopped down on it.

"So…" Yamcha breathed. "That's a thing that's going to happen."

"Y-Yeah…" Bulma agreed. She was silent for a moment before looking up at Yamcha. "Are you going to fight?"

The ex-bandit was quiet as he digested that thought. Did he want to fight? A better question might be, what could he contribute? Against Vegeta and Nappa, he'd died before even getting to fight them. He'd sat out the Piccolo fight with a broken leg. And, of course, three tournaments, three straight first-round exits.

Something within him flared to life as he thought of those defeats. And just as quickly, it was tempered by thoughts of the woman next to him, that he loved. Maybe. It could be kind of unclear sometimes. And then, Yamcha was struck by a realization: he was half-assing martial arts, and he was half-assing his relationship with Bulma. How many times had they spent months, even years apart, because he was training? Or dead? How often had he slacked off to be with Bulma, rather than further his skills?

As the saying went, "Whole-ass one thing instead of half-assing two things." How Goku juggled family and martial arts training as well as he did was beyond him.

"Bulma…" he said softly. "How long have we been dating?"

She blinked. "What?"

"How long have we been dating?" he repeated.

"Uh…" Bulma frowned as she worked out the years. "About… twelve and a half years? Off and on, of course."

"And how far have we progressed in our relationship since then?" Yamcha asked, holding up his hand. "Don't answer that, we both know the answer. At some point, if we want this relationship to _work_ , then we need to commit. Both of us. And if we can't… then perhaps it wasn't meant to be."

"Yamcha…" Bulma breathed in numb shock. "I-"

"Take your time," Yamcha interrupted. "This isn't a decision you can rush. Besides, I've got a fight to train for."

And with that, he got up and started walking for one of the gravity rooms Dr. Briefs had installed recently, leaving Bulma behind, gaping at his back. She tried to say something, to _do_ something… but she did nothing. And then he was gone.

Shortly after he left, Bulma got up and made a beeline for the small wine rack her parents kept for the rare occasion they had formal guests over. Hopefully at least _some_ of it wasn't vinegar, because she needed something a bit stronger than Oolong's beer at the moment.

~o~

Power flowed through him, golden like the sun and burning just as hot. And yet, what flowed through him was a mere fraction of the whole, a burning ball deep within him that was _just_ out of reach. Great anger, he knew, would shorten the distance. But it was a level of anger he never wanted to feel again. And so he was left grasping, the power always just out of reach.

Son Goku heaved a deep sigh as he broke out of his meditation. Frustrating, summoning up the Super Saiyan on demand. But necessary if he was to have any chance against King Cold.

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find the sun already starting to set. Naturally, his stomach chose that moment to voice its displeasure, and Goku let out a low chuckle. Ah well, it wouldn't hurt to call it a day. He had a month, at minimum, to figure this out.

Standing up and stretching out the kinks in his muscles, Goku tensed his legs to take off for home, when he felt a familiar ki… wobbling through the air, for lack of a better term.

"Bulma?" he wondered, taking off toward where he could feel her ki signature.

He quickly caught up to the erratically flying aircar, pulling up alongside it. A glance into the cockpit revealed Bulma, and the luminescent blush and glazed eyes of the truly sloshed. Well, that explained the erratic flying.

Sighing, Goku dipped under Bulma's aircar and grabbed it, stabilizing the flight, before turning for his house. It was closer than West City, after all.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the aircar was safely capsulized and Bulma was tucked into the spare bed, usually used when Gyu-Mao came to visit. After all, she had been quite unconscious by the time they arrived. As Goku softly closed the door, he sensed Chi-Chi behind him, a mix of exasperation and concern leaking into her ki.

"I can't believe Bulma would do something so… reckless!" Chi-Chi said, before rolling her eyes as her husband opened his mouth to object. "Yes, yes, you've told me all about what you and her got up to in your youth, but I was under the impression she'd put those days behind her!"

"Yeah," Goku agreed, sending a bewildered glance behind him. "I guess we'll just have to wait until morning. Has Gohan gone to bed already?"

"Yup!" Chi-Chi replied, beaming. "I was worried about that Piccolo influencing my boy, or hurting him, but they're just working on form, and he seems to be having a great time!"

Goku chuckled, silently deciding not to tell Chi-Chi about the year Piccolo and Gohan had spent together training for the Saiyans…

~o~

Morning came to Bulma in the form of a hundred-man marching band in her head. Oh, wait, no, that was just the birds chirping outside and aggravating her hangover.

With nothing better to do - she couldn't go back to sleep, and her inner ear was loudly protesting any attempt to get up - she tried to remember what had happened. She was tinkering… and then Oolong came back early… and then-

Right. King Cold. Yamcha. And… and that…

She was shaken out of her musings by a knock at the door, followed shortly by Goku poking his head in.

"Hey," he said, jabbing his thumb out the door. "We've got some rice and orange juice out here, if you're up to it. And if you're not, I can bring it in."

"Mmmph…" Bulma groaned into her pillow.

"Got it," Goku nodded, ducking out the door. Bulma used the short time he was gone to wiggle herself into something vaguely resembling a seated position, one that didn't result in an intensifying of the dizziness.

When Goku returned, she took one look at the bowl of rice and grabbed the tray out of his hands, immediately tearing into the food. She was vaguely aware of Goku chuckling, likely at her spot-on imitation of his own feeding habits, but she didn't stop. The first bite had reminded her how she hadn't eaten dinner the previous night, and she was starving. And though it was just plain rice, she had a feeling her stomach wouldn't appreciate anything richer.

"Hey, Bulma?"

The inventor paused mid-bite, glancing up at her host. "Yeah?" she mumbled around her mouthful of rice.

"What were you doing flying out here drunk?"

She swallowed and grimaced, debating whether to tell him.

"I… Yamcha… well, he basically gave me an ultimatum. Kinda. Gah!" Bulma threw her hands up in the air, still not stirring from her position on the bed. "I don't know! He's never done anything like this! All I know is he wants me to make a decision on our-!"

She paused, noticing that Goku looked intensely uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?"

"I…" he hedged, rubbing the back of his head. "I think you should talk to Chi-Chi about this, not me."

Looking at the thoroughly bewildered expression on the Saiyan's face, Bulma had to agree. Taking pity on her friend, she nodded and said, "Yeah, I think that would be better."

Goku immediately scurried out of the room, leaving Bulma to giggle at his obvious discomfort. That done, she turned back to the food, and was just finishing it off when Chi-Chi walked in.

"Goku mentioned relationship problems?" Chi-Chi confirmed. "In between running outside as fast as he could, I mean."

"Yeah," Bulma nodded. "It started yesterday after Oolong got back…"

It didn't take long for her to tell the story. Of learning about King Cold, of Yamcha presenting the decision, of her need to try and forget that, which had led to a nasty bout of drinking… all of it up until she got into her aircar. Things got fuzzy there.

"Hmm..." Chi-Chi hummed. "Yamcha's on the passive side, isn't he? I bet his declaration caught you completely by surprise."

"Yeah, it did…" Bulma sighed. "Which just speaks volumes, doesn't it? Oh, what should I do?"

"Oh, that's simple," Chi-Chi replied. "You need to ask yourself if your relationship with Yamcha is worth the warts."

Bulma waited for more, but nothing came. "That's it?" she wondered.

"Only you can decide if he's worth it or not," Chi-Chi said. "You're a smart woman, Bulma, much smarter than me. You'll figure it out." Her expression sobered, and several lines seemed to spontaneously appear on her face. "I'm lucky Goku's so easygoing and forgiving. I don't think I'd handle your situation as well as you have."

Bulma gave the other woman a confused look. "I got drunk and went driving in my aircar."

"And that ruins my point… how?"

"Right…" Bulma stated slowly. Best not to think about the implications of _that_ statement. Did she want to stay with Yamcha, or not? Would it even matter after King Cold came through?

At that thought, Bulma's fists clenched. Maybe she wasn't a fighter, but she could do _something_ against the invaders! Science would provide a means!

Filled with new resolve, Bulma swung her legs out and tried to stand up. Keyword being tried. The minute she was on her feet, the room started swaying and her nearly-forgotten headache redoubled.

"Okay, maybe I should stay in bed for a few more hours…" she muttered as Chi-Chi caught her and helped ease her down.

~o~

General Harkon gazed down at the frozen Planet Freeza 18 from the observation blister of the bridge. Once, the ice cap had been a pristine surface almost as smooth as glass. Now, it varied between shattered mountains and thin plains of ice due to the repeated bursts of power King Cold had produced in the months they'd been in orbit. Thank God the refueling station had its own entertainment, otherwise those bursts would have been all they had to stave off boredom. That, and the other generals arriving. As it was, they were all dealing with an increasing number of disciplinary issues.

Where was he? Oh, yes, power. He had no idea what King Cold was doing down there, but the power on display boggled the mind. The planet-wide devastation? A _side effect_. Whatever his king was doing, it made it quite clear that this "Super Saiyan" stood no chance.

"General Harkon!" one of the bridge crew spoke up, breaking him from his musings. "His Majesty is returning!"

"Very well," he stated, rising out of his seat. "I shall go to greet him. Continue your duties."

The bridge crew nodded and went back to work as their General marched for the central hanger. He got there just in time to see Cold float up into the ship, completely naked and white with purple gems instead of the usual horned form Harkon was used to.

"You look… different, your Majesty," Harkon said carefully, even as he ducked into a respectful bow. "Your final form, I assume?"

"Yes," Cold replied. "I now have complete control over it. Are the other generals here?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"All ships are to proceed to Earth, then," Cold ordered, sweeping past Harkon. "We have spent enough time preparing."

"Yes, your Majesty," Harkon replied as he followed. "Your Majesty, if I may… where are you going now?"

Cold paused, and shot a confused look back at the General. "Why, to get new armor fitted, of course," Cold stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course, sire," Harkon replied, bowing again. As he stood from the bow, he tapped his scouter. "Send the course to the other Generals, and tell them that we go _now_."

" _Yes, General."_

A few seconds later, Harkon felt the ship vibrate as it went to FTL speeds. In one month they'd reach Earth; and then nothing would stop them from destroying any resistance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Preparations**

 **AN: Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I… honestly have no excuses. Anyway, I don't plan to take six months for the next chapter, but don't expect a fast or consistent update schedule. My muse is fickle and this is somewhat low on my list of priorities.**

"Hey. Hey, wake up!"

Bulma shifted in her sleep, mumbling incoherently and swatting in the vague direction of that annoying voice, but didn't move from whatever she was lying on. A sharp jab to her butt promptly caused her eyes to shoot open, taking in Oolong standing next to her, a hunk of steel plate held in front of him.

"C'mon, I thought you were in a hurry," the pig grumbled, pulling back the large serving fork he'd used to poke her. "It's almost ten in the morning."

"Wait, what?" Bulma exclaimed, immediately shooting awake and upright. "Why did you let me sleep that long?!"

"Well, you said you had a breakthrough last night," Oolong replied, pointing at something in her right hand. "Then you built a death ray." Bulma glanced down at the pistol-like device in her hand, with three metal prongs jutting out the firing end. "Then you conked out on your workbench. And then, when I tried to wake you up earlier this morning, you kept pointing it at me!"

"I remember building it," Bulma hedged, casting a skeptical glance Oolong's way as he dropped the steel plate. "But you're saying I threatened you with it?"

"You totally did," Oolong grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh," Bulma sighed, standing up and shifting her gaze. "Well, at least I didn't…"

She trailed off at the sight of the large hole in the wall of her lab, a hole that stretched through dozens more buildings for miles. She had a suspicion that if West City wasn't built on a flat plain there would have been a mountain with a neat hole in it somewhere in the distance. The next glance she sent at the death ray had more than a little fear in it.

"I did that?!" she exclaimed.

"You totally did!" Oolong replied.

Gingerly, Bulma set it down, and glanced out at the damage again. "Hmm…" she mused. "Do you think this would actually hurt any of King Cold's troops?"

"Why're you asking me?" Oolong wondered. "But considering what Goku's told me, it looks kinda like the effects of the Makkaka- Mankaka- that spiral energy beam thingy Piccolo used on Raditz."

Bulma nodded, her mind going back to the aftermath of that fight. There had been a hole in one of the nearby mountains, hadn't there?

"Well, at least it'll kill foot soldiers, then," she decided, stroking her chin as she thought of additional possible technical challenges. "Probably going to need a targeting system of some sort, and something to help aim it…"

A notepad and a worn pencil were pulled from where they'd been shoved aside, the inventor starting to scribble out ideas on it.

"Well, there's food downstairs for when you need it," Oolong said, shrugging and leaving the lab. "Oh, and Chiaotzu and Krillin are coming by soon for their weekly training with Yamcha in the gravity chamber. Just in case you wanted to say hi."

All he got in return was a noncommittal grunt, Bulma completely engrossed in her work.

"Suit yourself," he said, before leaving entirely.

~o~

"- And controlling it's not easy," Krillin said as he and Chiaotzu landed on the lawn of Capsule Corporation. Well, he landed. Chiaotzu kept on floating beside him as he walked towards the buildings. "And after I spent so much time just figuring out how to generate the stuff. Still, I'm making progress, at least. How's your training going?"

"I've figured out the telepathy half," the small _jiangshi_ replied. "And I think I've got my telekinetic control down, but I'd like to test that first."

"Well, that's what these sessions are for," Krillin said as he swung open the door to the main Capsule Corp. building. The sight that greeted them, though, stopped them short.

Oolong looked up from the sandwich he'd been coating in mayonnaise, looking confused. "What?"

"... That's a ham sandwich," Chiaotzu pointed out.

"Yeah, your point?" the humanoid pig said as he closed up the sandwich and grabbed a plate. "You humans eat monkeys all the time. Same difference."

"Well, not all the time…" Krillin muttered as Oolong wandered off, before shaking his head and resolving to forget the entire experience. "Okay, let's just get to the gravity chamber."

"Say hi to Yamcha for me while you're at it!" Oolong called back as he walked away, sandwich in hand.

Chiaotzu and Krillin exchanged worried glances at that. They hadn't _seen_ anything, of course, but gossip travels, especially in a family-owned corporation like Capsule Corp. Bulma and Yamcha were in one of their rough patches again, naturally, but hearing it from the Capsule Corp employees, the ex-bandit was training like a man possessed, just shy of obsessive, something he'd never done. That suggested something a little more than one of their usual kerfuffles, but under the circumstances it was something to worry about _after_ the ultra-powerful galactic tyrant was defeated.

With that in mind, the two small fighters opened the door to the gravity chamber, fifty times Earth gravity settling on them like a heavy blanket. And like every other time they had visited, Yamcha was already there, covered in sweat. Today he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to them, clearly meditating, and the walls and floor were decorated by deep, clean gouges.

"Hey, Krillin, Chiaotzu," he said, not even turning around.

"Hey, Yamcha," Krillin replied, eyeing the gouges in the walls and floor. "You've been… busy."

"Yeah, new move. I've almost got it down," Yamcha said, standing up and turning to face them. "So. What's the plan for today?"

"Krillin and I talked it over on the way here, and we thought two-on-one sparring would be best," Chiaotzu said, holding up his hands. "I need to work on using my psychic powers in a fight, and I think we could all use a little practice fighting multiple opponents."

Yamcha nodded, grabbing a water bottle from where it was sitting on the console. "Sounds good," he said, taking a swig before starting up his stretches. Near the entrance, Krillin was doing the same, while Chiaotzu, with his decidedly less physical fighting style, merely floated in place, watching.

"Alright," Krillin announced after a few minutes, standing and sliding into a stance. "Ready!"

Yamcha wordlessly did the same, Chiaotzu merely floating up a bit higher. For a second, no one moved.

And then Krillin surged into a low side kick, Yamcha soaring up with a high hook cocked back. Chiaotzu flipped in midair, threading between the blows and slamming light telekinetic blows into the limbs, knocking them both off-balance. Despite the shoves, both fighters quickly adjusted, Krillin using the momentum to flow into an upward spinning kick and Yamcha flipping in mid-air and moving back to land. The incoming heel skittered off of Chiaotzu's hand, another telekinetic push reversing his opponent's momentum and sending him flipping back to land himself.

Even as one opponent was temporarily out of the fight, Yamcha made his presence known with a charging knee strike from behind. Chiaotzu immediately ducked under the attack, bounding off the floor to get some distance.

The fight came to another pause as Yamcha and Krillin bunched together again, Chiaotzu content to sit back and let them come to him. The two exchanged glances, and then held up their hands, ki gathering into a flat, razor-edged disk and a small ball.

"Kienzan!"

"Sokidan!"

Both projectiles zoomed at Chiaotzu, attempting to box him in. Unfortunately, the ball was faster than the disk, allowing the psychic to slip through the resulting gap. He continued to evade at high speed as the ball zoomed after him, without any input from Yamcha, even as Krillin guided his own attack in. And, of course, with Yamcha not needed to guide his Sokidan…

"Ha!" Chiaotzu barked, thrusting his hands out and freezing Yamcha in place, stopping his charge dead in its tracks. The small fighter immediately flipped over the still-frozen Yamcha, forcing Krillin to send his Kienzan flying in another direction.

The Sokidan, being autonomous, had no such direction.

"Aw, cra-" Yamcha began before the ki ball slammed into his gut and knocked the wind out of him.

"Are you okay, Yamcha?!" Chiaotzu shouted as he released his telekinetic hold, letting the other man slump to the ground.

"'M fine…" Yamcha groaned.

"I think we need better self-destruct options if we're going to be throwing around guided attacks like that," Krillin remarked as he walked up to them, his Kienzan still spinning over his palm. "Anyway, a self-guiding Sokidan? That's pretty cool. And Chiaotzu, I'd say you've got that fine control down."

"Yeah, it's more energy-efficient than just wrapping someone up and complements hand-to-hand nicely," the _jiangshi_ replied, a grin spreading over his face. "And I can pick up thoughts in combat, now, too! Not many, but..."

"Oh, so that's how you knew my Kienzan was guided!" Krillin realized as he finally managed to dispel the disk. "I was wondering how you-"

"Hey."

Krillin and Chiaotzu turned to Yamcha and flinched in unison. There was a fire blazing in his eyes, a fire the two of them had seen before. It was a look they'd seen in Goku's eyes, and Piccolo's, and Tenshinhan's. It was a drive, a desire to become as strong as possible and damn the consequences.

"If you two are quite done," the ex-bandit continued, irritation leaking into his voice. "Let's get back to it. I'll be the single this time."

Chiaotzu and Krillin readied themselves as _two_ Sokidans sprang to life in Yamcha's hands. And then they attacked, Krillin readying a punch and his new partner following behind.

~o~

"Are you ready?" Tenshinhan asked.

Gohan, not trusting his voice, nodded.

A nod back, and Tenshinhan crossed his arms over his body before releasing, his form splitting in two. Each body repeated the action, splitting them again and leaving four identical Tenshinhans standing on the forest floor. As one, they moved, surrounding Gohan and raining blows down on him.

The young boy quickly lost himself in the flow of attack and counterattack, his every sense, physical or otherwise, straining to keep track of the four Tenshinhans. They were slower to begin with, even before dividing their speed between them, but their teamwork was utterly perfect. Unsurprising, considering they were still technically the same person. Not for the first time, he thanked Piccolo for quite literally pounding the ability to track ki in battle into him.

In the end, though, it was only a matter of time before a blow slipped through, an elbow strike that bounced off his skull to no effect other than a minor jolt.

"Fifty-eight seconds," Piccolo intoned from where he was seated corss-legged against a nearby tree. "Again."

Tenshinhan sprang into action again, Gohan blocking and evading. Duck the jab, push down the kick, deflect another punch with a spinning kick. Once again, he was quickly lost in the flow of battle; all that mattered were the opponents around him, and not once did he lose track of them.

' _Now!'_ he decided after a few moments, rearing back his fist for a punch-

And then a vice grip clamped down on his wrist, drawing him out of his reverie and up to Piccolo looming over him.

"Better," the Namekian declared. "But you still need work. I shouldn't have been able to sneak up on you like that."

"That zone you get in is useful one-on-one, but it can be distracting when you have multiple opponents," Tenshinhan added, recombining himself back into one body. "Still, you've got good speed and power, and that helps a lot. Unless you're up against someone on par with Captain Ginyu or that Armored Squadron, I don't think they'll be able to take advantage of your inexperience."

Gohan didn't answer, his face downcast and his hands clenched into fists. He still wasn't _good enough_.

After a moment, Piccolo exhaled and let go of Gohan's hand. "Alright, I think that's enough training against multiple opponents for today," he declared. "Time for something a little more conventional."

Without warning, he threw up his hand and fired off a blast that Gohan only barely dodged, the sphere sailing past before detonating in the air behind him.

"Good," Piccolo said, smirking. With a thought, two more spheres appeared, hovering next to him. "And don't think you're getting out of this, either, Tenshinhan."

"Of course not," the triclops muttered, before frantically throwing himself to the side as another energy ball sailed past him, his third eye tracking it until it exploded. "He do this often?"

"Yup," Gohan replied, gulping as another four spheres sprang to life. "Though this is a new method."

"Fair warning, I'm still working on my control of this technique," Piccolo helpfully informed them. His targets only had enough time to pale before they were dodging as fast they could again.

~o~

Nearly one hundred miles away, Son Goku sat cross-legged in a mountain meadow, employing the meditative techniques Kami had taught him. To defeat King Cold, he'd have to use the Super Saiyan, and it was useless unless he could use it at will.

The hard part wasn't figuring out _how_ to trigger the transformation. All he needed to do was recall the memory of Gohan's ki fading even as he lay helpless at Cooler's feet. But it was a feeling ephemeral; Gohan was alive and safe, and he knew it. And while feeling the rage and despair was easy, from previous sessions he had learned that the Super Saiyan required diving into those feelings - and then pulling back, without undoing the transformation, if he wanted to remain in control of himself. Tricky, especially for someone who didn't like dwelling on negative emotions.

But not impossible.

Breath moved in and out, distractions clearing from Goku's mind, allowing him to see the dark pool that was the anger and despair from before. Mentally, he compared it to coffee. Goku didn't like coffee; it was bitter, burned, and left him feeling like he had to fire off a hundred Kamehamehas just to keep from jittering to pieces.

Anyway, like many times before, Goku dived in and let the darkness flow over him. His fists and brows clenched, and an outside observer would have noticed the golden hair and aura of the Super Saiyan spring to life. Thoughts soared through his head; demands to kill and destroy until nothing threatened him and those he cared about. Goku wrestled with those thoughts, pounding them into submission. The threat was coming, and it would be stopped. But it would be him stopping it, and not his Saiyan rage.

Finally, after a time that could have been seconds or hours, Goku stood. He felt… harder. On the edge of a cliff, the vertigo of the edge tugging at him. But still under control. A grin spread across his face, and he dropped the transformation, only to pull it back up a few seconds later.

"YAHOOOOOOO!" he shouted, soaring into the air, leaving a golden trail behind him. He did a few loop-de-loops, before soaring off into the distance, pushing himself as fast as he could. The mountains around his home fell away, desert, plains, ocean, and ice cap flying by just as fast. Within minutes, he was soaring back to the mountains around his home, the ki of Piccolo, Gohan, and Tenshinhan flaring in his senses.

Goku slowed to a halt above the three fighters, noting the new, smoking clearing behind him, and dropped down, the Super Saiyan still running.

"Dad!" Gohan exclaimed as Goku touched down, running up to his father with a wide grin on his face. "You did it! You did it!"

"Yup, I did!" Goku said cheerfully as Gohan slammed into his legs. Still smiling, he reached down and wiped a smidge of sweat-soaked dirt off of his cheek. "Looks like you've been working hard."

"Yeah, Piccolo's been working on our dodging skills!"

Goku glanced behind him with a flat "I see", and Piccolo knew then and there that he was going to pay for that little exercise later.

Seriously, how did Chi-Chi make that frying pan _hurt_ so much?

"Incredible," Tenshinhan breathed, drawing Piccolo out of his reverie. "He's not even fighting, and he's still in a completely different dimension from us."

"He may be," Piccolo said absently. Goku's power was certainly impressive, but would it be enough?

And then an ocean of ki washed over them, and he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"They're here," he breathed.

~o~

Thousands of miles away in West City, the three fighters in the gravity room were taking a break, chugging down water and, in Yamcha's case, a few salt pills when they felt Goku transform.

"Geez," Krillin muttered. "So glad we have that on our side."

"Yeah," Chiaotzu said as Goku's signature began moving at speed. He glanced down at the water bottle sitting in his hands. "He's so strong now… what can we do that he can't? Do we even matter anymore?"

"I dunno, Chiaotzu," Krillin sighed. "But until I do, I'm going to keep training, just in case."

That drew a nod from the _jiangshi_. Yamcha remained silent, focused on something else.

And then a lead blanket made of ki washed over them.

"I think they're here," Krillin muttered fearfully.

"Not yet."

Krillin and Chiaotzu both sent questioning looks at Yamcha, even as he stood up and began walking out. "If I remember my astronomy right, they're deep out in the solar system," he said, pausing in the doorway. "I'd say we've got at least a few hours to recover from our training. Use it wisely." And with that, he left.

For a moment, things were silent in the gravity room, until Krillin broke it.

"He and Bulma really need to make up."

~o~

Harkon let a grin stretch across his face as they warped in behind the eighth planet of Earth's system, a rather pretty blue ice giant. Finally. As much as he prized professionalism, he was also a warrior. He _craved_ action, and everything he'd heard about the planet they were about to assault suggested he'd get some.

He quickly schooled the grin as three other screens lit up in front of him. Best not to show such indulgence in front of his fellow generals. They'd have no trouble doing that themselves.

The left screen was occupied by the slimy, tentacled form of Metzalblood. No one was sure what, exactly, he was, only that he was incredibly strong, could regrow the fragile-looking tentacles that made up 80% of his body practically at will, and backed up his ki-based abilities with strong telekinesis. He was also a bloodthirsty monster who liked torturing his victims before killing them.

Harkon had a distinct suspicion he'd killed all of his own species before joining up with King Cold.

In the center was Jaguarl, a large, heavily-built alien with blue skin, a sunken nose, and aqua-blue skin, not to mention a mouth full of razor-edged triangles masquerading as teeth. Clawed hands and a thin tuft of black hair sprouting from the center of his head completed the picture of the fight junky of the Four Generals, and also the most powerful of the four.

' _Though battle strength isn't everything,'_ Harkon mused, suppressing a grin.

On the right and completing the trio of fellow generals was Juxera. The same species as the late Jeice of the Ginyu Force, with the distinctive red skin and mane of white hair, she was the one he respected the most. Like him, she was an utter professional concerned solely with results, though she could fall into a blinding rage when things didn't go as she planned.

" _Are we there yet?"_ Jaguarl immediately demanded. From the groans the other two generals gave, this wasn't the first time he'd asked that question. Probably not even the dozenth.

" _Yes, you idiot, we are! Now shut up already before I kill you myself!"_ Metzalblood snapped.

" _Ha! I'd like to see you try, you little octopus!"_ the other general chortled.

Harkon sighed, and was about to try and assert some sort of control when King Cold swept in, the cape attached to his armor billowing behind him.

"Enough," he stated, that one command stopping the argument in its tracks. "Harkon, are the scans of the planet complete?"

"Yes, your majesty," the General nodded, bringing up the relevant figures via hologram. "Earth is a class B garden world; only its small size prevents it from being class A. It is inhabited by a species known as 'humans'. They are an industrial species, but have little inherent battle strength except for a few outliers."

" _And those outliers will be our primary obstacles, I presume?"_ Juxera confirmed.

"Yes." A tap, and the holographic screen split into five, three showing dense urban cores, one showing massive construction, and the fifth a flat, scorched wasteland. "Intercepted transmissions have identified these as the largest cities on the planet. This one-" One of the images zoomed in, showing a modest mansion that was nonetheless clearly a palace. "Is the seat of Earth's government. The other two intact cities, as well as this one, will be our primary targets."

" _Thus beginning the extermination, decapitating the leadership, and drawing out the defenders, all in one fell swoop,"_ Metzalblood summarized, tapping his tentacles together. " _Impressive as always, General Harkon."_

Harkon nodded, acknowledging the compliment. "General Juxera, General Metzalblood, you will be assaulting the northern metropolis. General Jaguarl and I will take the western. The capital-"

"Is mine," Cold interrupted. "The Super Saiyan will be there. I know it. If possible, take the Namekian alive. If not… well, I'll understand."

Harkon nodded again. "How you make the assaults is up to you. It should take us-"

An alert popped up on his holographic screen, warning of an incoming warp. His fellow Generals were getting it as well, judging from the incessant beeping coming from their screens. He glanced back at his ruler, but Cold simply gave an annoyed scowl and a "get on with it" gesture. With a touch, he muted the conference and pulled up a feed to his bridge.

"I hope this is important," he growled, baring his fangs.

" _It is, sir-"_ was as far as the bridge officer got before a booming laugh cut him off.

" _Hello, Cold!"_

"Turles," King Cold sneered. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast you out of the sky for desertion."

The Saiyan merely grinned, lounging on the throne built onto the scrapheap of a ship his men were driving. " _Because you've got four ships and three targets, and I have_ this."

Harkon was distinctly underwhelmed when Turles held up a small seed, but King Cold's eyes widened fractionally.

"The Tree of Might," he stated. "How did you-"

" _Let me in on this and I just might tell you."_

Cold was silent for a moment before nodding. "Very well. You may join me in the assault on the capital, but under one condition: you must split the fruit of the Tree with me."

" _You drive a hard bargain, Cold, you really do,"_ Turles sighed. " _Fine, fine. You get half, I get half. Let's just get moving."_ And with that, the transmission cut out. Almost immediately, the other three generals glanced from Cold to Harkon, and then Juxera jerked her head in King Cold's direction.

The General immediately shook his head, eyes widening slightly. Then Jaguarl glared at him and jerked his arms towards their liege, and Harkon sighed and turned in that direction.

"Your Majesty-" he began.

"You wish to know why I did that, Harkon." It wasn't a question.

"Well… yes."

"Simple: the Tree of Might and the boost it can give our forces is far more valuable than the planet itself," he explained. "I am confident I can handle his inevitable betrayal, and it will give us more of the fruit, as well." And then Cold smiled, a smile that reflected his name. "And besides, he and his band will be serviceable cannon fodder in case more than the Super Saiyan come to defend the capital."

That… actually made sense. And he'd thought of that so quickly? Once again, Harkon felt himself reminded why King Cold was, well, King.

"Now, why don't you unmute the conference and wrap things up?" Cold suggested. "General Jaguarl looks… impatient."

Harkon glanced at the holograms, and indeed, Jaguarl had grabbed his screen and was shaking it and shouting invectives. Given that they were working with intangible holograms instead of physical screens, that was impressive dedication to showing that he was pissed off. Sighing, the General unmuted the call and braced.

"- AND I WILL CONSUME YOUR UNBORN YOUNG AND-!" The blue-skinned alien cut himself off as he realized that the sound was back, and leaned back and gave a light cough. "Anyway, you were saying something before that damned monkey butted in."

"Seven hours," Harkon said, his lips curling up in a bloodthirsty grin. "Seven hours for us to reach the planet and begin deploying. Enjoy."


	5. Chapter 5

Due west of Orange Star City was a large plain, studded with low, rounded rolling hills and a patchwork of farms big and small, where farmers grew corn and wheat and raised all manner of animals for the series of small cities dotting the region's highways. One farm in particular, set against the foothills of the mountains that adorned the southern boundary of the plain, was the perfect picture of idyllic rural life. The fields containing its hundred odd cattle were bright with green grass, a low breeze blowing the pleasant smell of the grass and the admittedly much less pleasant smell of the cattle across the earth. Clouds studded the sky at regular intervals, the rest of the roof of the world blue as can be.

Well, aside from a quartet of white streaks somewhat resembling airplanes in their appearance and speed.

Far above the nameless farm, Goku was largely focused on monitoring the ki signatures descending from orbit. Four big ones, lots of small ones, and one absolute monster that dwarfed anything Freeza or Cooler had put out, even in a resting state. They were also splitting up, and that was a good thing. It meant the monstrous ki couldn't support the other groups.

" _Goku!"_

The Saiyan started in surprise. "Bulma?!" he yelped, frantically glancing around him.

"Dad, what-" Gohan began.

" _Yeah, it's me, Chiaotzu's acting as a telepathic relay,"_ his oldest friend explained. " _More importantly, I've been tracking the trajectories, and I think I know where they're going! We've got one group heading here to West City, another to North City, and then this Cold guy is heading for Central City."_

A quick check confirmed that yes, two of the big powers were headed in the general direction of West City. "Bulma, you need to get out of there, now!" Goku ordered.

" _Don't worry, Krillin and Yamcha are already here,"_ Bulma replied. " _They can handle it, even with Chiaotzu headed up to North City."_

"And that's my cue to head there, too," Tenshinhan cut in.

"You heard all that?" Goku asked, surprised.

"Of course," Tenshinhan smirked. "What, you thought you were the only one Chiaotzu was sending that to? In any case, good luck, Goku." He glanced skyward, smirk replaced by a grim frown. "You'll need it."

And with that, the triclops peeled off from the group and picked up speed, angling just a little further east to goodbye waves from father and son. Shortly after he passed over the horizon, Piccolo also peeled off without a word, angling west. And though Goku didn't react, Gohan sent a distressed look after his mentor.

"Dad?" he asked, his voice plaintive. "Where's Piccolo going?"

Smiling, Goku fell back a bit, reaching over to ruffle Gohan's hair. "Hey, don't worry, Gohan, I know where he's going," he said. "He'll be back, and way stronger, too."

"Stronger…?" Gohan wondered, before his eyes widened. "Ah, he's going to merge with Kami!"

"Yup," Goku confirmed. "We'll lose the Dragon Balls, but… well, you're the only one fighting who hasn't already died once, and they can't fix the whole planet getting blown up. Honestly, I'd rather have an extra-powerful Piccolo."

Gohan nodded, some levity returning to his face. "And then we beat them all up, right?"

"You got it!"

The remainder of the flight was spent in much more companionable silence, though there was an undercurrent of worry as King Cold's monstrous ki came down from orbit. Finally, though, the outskirts of Central City came into sight, and Goku came in for landing on a nearby mountain that offered a good vantage point, Gohan following his lead. Cold and the spaceship with him followed shortly behind, but the ship wasn't one of the beetle-like ships Freeza had come in. Instead, it was a ramshackle sphere that reminded both fighters of the attack pods the Saiyans had come in.

Their confusion only mounted when both landed on the plains outside the city, Cold doing nothing as soldiers spilled out of the ship. A Saiyan nearly identical in appearance to Goku - and he was a Saiyan, the furred monkey's tail around his waist was a dead giveaway - stepping out as well was just the cherry on top.

"I'm so confused…" Goku groaned, scratching his head. Below them, the soldiers were milling about aimlessly until the Saiyan started yelling and gesticulating, sending them scrambling - _away_ from the city. Hell, they didn't even bother blasting the aircars that began spilling out of the city.

"Well, if they're not gonna start blowing things up, maybe we should wait for Piccolo?" Gohan offered.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

~o~

The God of Earth gazed down on the planet below, all its lands visible before him. He could see Cold's ships landing, releasing the invaders to kill and destroy. He sensed the power of the seed Turles carried, and its relentless hunger for energy. And most of all, he saw his other half speeding towards him.

He sighed, the usual ache in his old bones spiking. It was a day he'd hoped would never come.

Stepping back from the edge of his palace, he came to a stop near a worried Mr. Popo, and waited. It was not long before Piccolo came to a halt above the edge of the palace, coming down on the tile.

For a moment, no one said anything; Kami grim, Popo nervous, and Piccolo impassive.

"I'm sure you know why I've come to this stinking hole," Piccolo stated.

"Yes," Kami replied. "You and I - or rather, your parent and I - were once the same being." A humorless smile quirked up the edges of his lips. "Honestly, I did not expect there to be a day where we would become one being again."

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear: this is not an equal union. You are only here to make me stronger. You wouldn't even still be around were it not for the Dragon Balls."

"N-Now just a minute…" Popo protested, only for the protest to die on his lips as Kami hung his head.

"No… he's right," the Namekian lamented. "My own powers pale in comparison to our enemies, each one more powerful than the last." His head moved up again, looking Piccolo dead in the eye. "My only question is this: can Goku win without our fusion?"

"No," Piccolo immediately and bluntly stated. "You can feel it, can't you? An ocean greater than anything we've felt, and this at rest." A smirk grew onto his lips. "I'm surprised you're agreeing so easily to this. Not afraid that the Demon King Piccolo might take over the world?"

To his surprise, Kami merely chuckled at that. "You're not fooling me, and you're not fooling yourself either," he said. "Most of your evil is gone; only a small bit of ruthlessness remains. And… perhaps we need a bit of ruthlessness, in this dark time."

The smirk vanished at that. "Let's just get this over with," Piccolo growled, stepping forward and pressing his hand to Kami's chest.

"You, the foundation, must be the one to initiate it," Kami stated as he stared dead forward. "I thank you for all your years of service, Mr. Popo."

The djinn could only hang his head sadly at that.

"Ha!" Kami barked. At the sound, a bright white glow lit up around him, a heavy wind kicking up between them and billowing their cloaks. The glow intensified, and then flowed off Kami and onto Piccolo, the Namekian's mouth open in a wordless cry.

And then, as suddenly as it came, the glow faded, Kami nowhere in sight and Piccolo slightly hunched over. Slowly, he stood, his fists rising for examination.

"G-Goodbye, Kami-sama," Mr. Popo said sadly. "Please don't die."

"I am neither Kami-sama nor Piccolo," the Namekian retorted, his stance relaxing. "I am a Namekian who has forgotten even his true name." Turning, he gave Mr. Popo a fond smile and a wave. "And now I must go."

With that, the nameless Namekian took off from the edge of the palace, soaring towards Central City. And though only two noticed, all around the world seven curious, perfectly round stones sat, where before there had been shining orange spheres.

~o~

General Harkon, his eyes closed, let the city below waft over him, in sound and scent, in vehicles and their horns and slamming doors and screaming civilians, and in that sour scent of rot that seemed to hang over every city he'd been to. He sneered. Always had hated cities, their smell and cacophonous noise.

"Bah! This is taking to long!" he heard General Jaguarl growl next to him, accompanied by the high-pitched whine of a charging energy blast. Harkon cracked open one eye, seeing an energy sphere diving into the city, charged with enough power to reduce it to a smoking crater. A split second later, he saw another energy ball plow through, detonating it harmlessly above the skyscrapers and then wheeling around to the launcher.

"Good job drawing them out, General Jaguarl," he politely stated, internally smirking at the sputtered rage the comment drew from the blue-skinned alien. Most of his attention, though, was on the two adversaries floating before them. Clad each in an orange tunic/pants combination similar to that favored by ki ascetics the galaxy over, they seemed unremarkable. Standard body layout - two arms, two legs, solid torso and head - with pinkish-brown skin; one short and bald, one taller and with black hair on his head. Unremarkable in a galaxy filled with beings of a similar aesthetic.

Of course, that was just the surface, what _Jaguarl_ would pay attention to. To Harkon's eye, despite their loose posture, they were entirely on their guard, ready to flow into attack or defense at the slightest of notice. Nervousness mixed with confidence in the grim mouths and the tight lines of their brows, an annoyingly effective combination. And, naturally, his scouter was lying to him. Both were giving off power levels of 1200, but 1200 couldn't stop even a casual, careless blast from Jaguarl, and more importantly, every report he'd read stated that the fighters on this planet could radically adjust their power levels.

"Pff, 1200," Jaguarl snorted. "Pathetic. You can take this, Harkon, but I-"

"I'm amazed you can read enough of that power reading to be fooled by it," Harkon interrupted.

"You dare-!"

"Quiet."

Harkon and Jaguarl glared at each other, before the latter backed down, turning away with a derisive "Tsk!".

With that annoyance out of the way, Harkon turned his attention back to the two defenders. "I don't suppose I could convince you to enter Cold's service?" he called out. "The pay and benefits are good, and with your power you'd climb the ranks very quickly."

The bald one snorted, which was an impressive trick, since as far as Harkon could tell he didn't have a nose. "You've gotta be kidding," he replied. "Do you really think we'd take an offer like that?"

"No, not really," Harkon genially replied, which was as far as he got before Jaguarl lost his temper.

"Enough of this!" he snarled, waving his hand. "Men, destroy this city! Harkon, take the bald one!" And with that, he charged headlong at the larger fighter.

Harkon resisted the urge to sigh, and didn't move. "Do as he says," he told the soldiers behind him. All nodded and scattered, and he turned his attention back to Jaguarl's charge in time to see him eat a foot to the face around his outstretched fist, the fighter's power level not budging an inch from 1200.

"Oh no you don't!"

And that would be the bald one intercepting his soldiers. Harkon tensed to attack - and then that same energy ball from earlier nearly caved in his chest, only a quick side-move letting him evade. The ball, to his consternation, immediately set off in pursuit. Speed didn't help; the ball had no issue keeping up with him at full speed, whether in a straight line or through several tight turns through the skyscrapers. He glanced over to where the human fighter was trading blows with General Jaguarl - and apparently actually keeping up.

Definitely autonomous, then, and Jaguarl was unlikely to solve the problem for him. ' _Sorry, men, but I'm going to have to leave you to die.'_

Charging up a blast in two finger tips, he wheeled around and fired it at the ball. For all its impressive tracking abilities, it was clearly not programmed for evasion, and the beam hit the ball dead on, piercing it and then exploding, scattering the energy to the wind and shattering all the windows in the block.

With his pursuer gone, he could turn his attention back to General Jaguarl's fight, and his eyes widened slightly as he grasped what the human was doing.

' _He's radically raising his battle strength only the instant he attacks,'_ he divined as the human flowed under Jaguarl's flailing haymaker and planted a knee in his gut. The big, blue-skinned alien promptly staggered back, though he still had the breath to counter the attack when it came. ' _The control it takes to do that, and the power to make Jaguarl even notice the blows…'_

No doubt about it: this man was _dangerous_ , exceptionally so. And if his companion was on the same level…

Circling the fight, Harkon watched, waiting for an opening. Not only in the fighter's guard, but also so that he wouldn't hit Jaguarl, as tempting as it was. On the plus side, Jaguarl didn't seem to be going down anytime soon. The physical blows were staggering him, and clearly _hurt_ , but they were singularly failing to slow him down.

Finally, he had it. Throwing out his arm and grasping it, he fired off a powerful blast - a blast that, to his shock, the human not only spun around and spotted almost as soon as he fired it, but _caught_ and threw up into the sky with minimal trouble. However, he paid for going stationary as Jaguarl planted a kick into his gut that sent him careening through several buildings and into the ground in a massive cloud of dust.

"I'd kill you for interfering, but-" Jaguarl began, floating down next to him, before Harkon interrupted him with another blast into the dust cloud. This one landed and detonated, scattering the dust, collapsing nearby buildings, and leaving behind a crater. Sadly, he could see the human rocketing up from the blast zone, scorched but otherwise fine.

"Mine!" Jaguarl snarled, darting up and meeting the human in another bout of hand to hand. Harkon followed, but the human seemed to have learned from the last exchange, as he took the opportunity gained from smashing an uppercut into Jaguarl's jaw to shoot two more of those thrice-damned energy balls at him. Another thin beam took care of one, but then the other was on him and he was forced to go corkscrewing through the air.

Now that he had a counter, the dance between Harkon and the ball was shorter, soon enough he was able to nail it with one of his thin beams and turn back to the the fight, where Jaguarl and the human had broken apart and were simply staring at each other. Both were looking somewhat worse for the wear, battered and bruised, their clothes frayed. They were also speaking to each other, though Harkon was too far to hear what.

As he watched, the human shifted into a fighting stance, and tensed. A white aura sprang up around him, and Harkon's scouter began beeping.

"Finally," he muttered, watching the numbers climb. They quickly shot past 100,000, not surprising. When they broke 120,000 he began to worry. The final number?

"177,000?" he breathed in shock. "That's… Jaguarl's _maximum_ is 180,000!"

Aura flaring, the human spoke, and somehow, despite the distance, Harkon heard him.

"Fist of the Wolf-Fang Gale: Version 3."

A pair of spectral wolves sprang to life around the human's hands, and he shot towards Jaguarl at greater speed than he'd shown thus far. The general, for his part, had charged energy into his fists, and seemed determined to meet the human head-on.

"That idiot!" Harkon snarled, before bringing his hands together and gathering all the energy he could muster.

Below him, human and alien fists collided, and it was no contest. The howling blue wolves carved through Jaguarl's gathered ki, then his ki shield, his hands, and then the rest of him, leaving him falling to the city in pieces, the largest his legs still attached to a chunk of torso.

And then Harkon unleashed his blast, his full power thundering through it. The human barely had time for his eyes to widen before the blast hit him dead on, sending him soaring towards and into the sea before exploding in a colossal mushroom cloud.

Panting, the canine general slowly flew toward the settling cloud. Ideally that had killed the human, but he'd seen too many opponents fly out of such dust clouds ready to keep fighting to hold much hope in that. To his pleased surprise, though, as he reached the shore he caught sight of his opponent crawling out of the water onto a beach.

The fighter was a mess, his outfit tattered and shredded, and blood dripping from multiple small wounds, his exposed skin a mess of livid burns and bruises. A quick check of the scouter confirmed his debilitation, his power now down to the low five digits and wobbling mightily.

"Impressive," he said as he touched down, careful to not betray his growing exhaustion. "Any last words?"

The human glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, and then did a curious thing: he smirked.

"Yeah," he rasped. "Welcome to Earth, motherfucker. Should have checked your six."

"Checked my what?" Harkon wondered, before shaking his head. "Ugh, whatever. Time to die." Raising his palm, he began charging a-

"Ka… me… ha… me…"

Eyes widening, Harkon whirled around to see the bald fighter behind him, hands cupped at his side and charging up a _very_ big blast.

"Shit," he spat.

"HAAAAAAAA!"

~o~

"Oh no you don't!" Krillin shouted as the mob of soldiers floating over West City scattered, presumably to start wreaking havoc. Backing up his words was a blurred movement in front of one of said soldiers, followed with a snap kick to the ribs that shattered the alien's armor - and his chest below, sending his shattered body spiraling into the pavement in a burst of shattered asphalt and dust. The former monk repeated the motion, zipping in a single second between seven different opponents, bashing feet, elbows, and fists into their bodies and sending them falling to the ground as well with no chance to fight back.

When he felt no more movement from the remaining soldiers, he came to a halt. The soldiers were grouped up and still, quivering in fear. One remained on the move-

An brownish-orange beam screamed out from the Capsule Corp campus, blasting a hole through his torso.

Never mind. Anyway, Yamcha was engaged with that blue-skinned alien, the wolf-like one being chased by one of his energy balls. Idly, Krillin batted an incoming energy blast upward, and turned his attention back to the group of soldiers. He raised his hand, gathering power-

"Hey!" one of the soldiers shouted, his hand pointed down. "Back off, or I blow up this city."

"Really?" Krillin groaned, rubbing the spot where his nose should have been but not dropping his hand. "Go ahead, try it."

The soldier blinked, then fired. Mere microseconds later, Krillin fired off his own blast, which immediately arced downward, punched through the ball, and then curved back up to immolate another hapless soldier.

The remainder reeled back in shock, and then were further distracted by a large explosion nearby. It was an obvious opportunity, and Krillin drew his hands back before pushing them forward, firing off a large blast with obvious power - a blast that fairly _crept_ towards the gathered soldiers. Naturally, they all scattered again, and Krillin couldn't help but smirk. That always got them. After a few seconds, the martial artist swung his hands up, sending the blast into the sky and incidentally making it faster, and then swung his hands down once it had enough height.

"Ha!"

The blast promptly split into twenty-two sub-blasts, each heading for one soldier. Nineteen hit, their targets unable to do more than gape in astonishment as the energy disintegrated them. Four, whether by luck, power, or observation, managed to evade, and in a moment of desperate sense sprinted straight for him in a ragged envelopment.

Krillin, who still hadn't moved from his spot, simply conjured up a Kienzan, and threw it to bisect the lead soldier before sweeping his hand across the ragged line, chopping up the remainder.

"Well," he remarked, dismissing the energy disc. "That was easy."

A sudden flare of power caught his attention, and he turned his focus back to where Yamcha was fighting just in time to see him and the blue alien clash, Yamcha's spectral wolves proving the more effective attack. Unbidden, Krillin's mind flashed back to the slashed-up gravity chamber.

"So that's what he was working on," the former monk whistled. However, beneath the explosion of Yamcha's ki there was… something else, and as his power dialed down he realized what it was.

"Dammit!" Krillin spat as he aimed at the canine alien, who was aiming a _very_ powerful blast at Yamcha. Even as he did so, though, he knew he wouldn't make it in time: he had only just started charging when the alien fired his blast and hit Yamcha dead-on, sending him careening into the sea in a colossal explosion.

' _Please be alive, please be alive,'_ Krillin pleaded, straining his senses for Yamcha's ki rather than fire. To his relief, it was there. Small, and flickering, but it was there. Of course, so was the alien soldier, though his ki was significantly diminished, and he was flying towards where Yamcha was. Sighing in relief, Krillin followed, trying to stay slow and inconspicuous.

The two fighters were soon over the beach, where Yamcha was crawling out of the water, and Krillin couldn't help but wince. ' _Ouch.'_ His clothes torn and body battered, he was clearly heading for a hospital stay absent any Senzu beans.

"Impressive," the canine alien stated as he touched down on the sand. "Any last words?"

"Yeah," Yamcha rasped. "Welcome to Earth, motherfucker. Should have checked your six."

"And that's my cue," Krillin muttered, before drawing his foot back and cupping his hands. "Ka… me… ha… me…"

Energy sprang to life in his hands, and when the alien turned around Krillin knew he would treasure the expression on his face for the rest of his life.

"Shit."

"Haaaaaaaaa!"

The Kamehameha sprang from his hands, his exhausted opponent unable to dodge, and so was neatly disintegrated as the energy washed over him and into the horizon.

Letting out a deep breath, Krillin relaxed and landed, walking up to where Yamcha was sprawled out on the sand.

"You didn't have to take both of them, you know," he remarked as he kneeled down and picked the ex-bandit up.

"One of us did," Yamcha retorted. "Otherwise there wouldn't be a city left. Besides, look at it this way: you saved my ass, and now I owe you a favor."

"Yeah, that is nice," Krillin mused as he took to the air back to Capsule Corp, drawing a pained wince from Yamcha at the jostling.

~o~

General Juxera basked in the screams of the powerless civilians below her as they fled from the soldiers steadily tearing apart the city with their bare hands. Inefficient if they wanted to destroy the city, but that was a secondary goal. Their main goal right now was to draw out the defenders, and a city under attack was always a good way to do that. Then they could be destroyed.

That, the general mentally amended as General Metzalblood grasped a half-dozen of the pitiful creatures in his telekinesis, and it was better to let tentacled alien to indulge a bit before a battle. He could get… indulgent otherwise.

Metzalblood twitched his mental muscles, and the humans were promptly pulped, Juxera continuing to smile at a plan well-executed.

"Ah… that's always fun," the tentacled general sighed contentedly. "So, are any of the defenders here yet? I _would_ like a challenge."

"Not yet, but-" Juxera began, only for her scouter to start pinging. "Ah, never mind, we've got incoming."

A power reading of twenty thousand was streaking towards them, its aura visible on the distant horizon. Impressive for such a backwater, but no match for either of them.

"I think you're going to be disappointed, though," she stated. "I'm reading only twenty thousand, and I doubt it'll go much higher."

"I'll take it," Metzalblood replied as the fighter came closer. Raising a tentacle, he twitched it, violently yanking the target out of the air and through several buildings.

Juxera raised an eyebrow. "And the point of that was… what, exactly?"

The tentacled alien didn't answer, and a few seconds later the fighter popped up into the air, looking none worse for the wear. The scouter told a different story, though: his battle strength had dropped to a mere 5000. Internal injuries, most likely.

"Well, that's disappointing," Metzalblood sighed, his own scouter beeping. Several more tentacles were raised, thrumming with power - and then, they flared up to his _left_ , throwing up a wall of telekinetic force as a bolt of the same power slammed into it. Juxera turned her gaze on the newcomer, who _hadn't appeared on the scouter_ : small, white-skinned, and dressed in a black dress/coat thing, and the most ridiculous little hat, he was a comical sight.

And yet, despite giving off no discernable power that the scouters could pick up, he had loosed a telekinetic blow that Metzalblood had bothered actually deflecting. Well, it's not like psychics had a track record of high battle power, but it was still disconcerting.

And there was the other fighter, too, slowly drifting up next to what was clearly his partner, his arms crossed over his bare chest. A thin scar snaked diagonally across the skin, and a third eye glared at her from its position on his forehead.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to just leave?" he asked.

"Of course not," Juxera replied, mentally cursing. Clearly, these warriors were more than they seemed. On the plus side, if it was just these two they could still clear out the city.

"I see," the human replied before crossing his forearms in an X in front of him.

Juxera tensed, slipping into a guarded stance, but the human didn't attack. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and- split?!

Gaping in shock, the general didn't have time to react as one of the bodies sped off, the other rushing her, a knife-hand pulled back for a thrust. She wasn't so distracted that she couldn't duck under it and kick up her feet, but the Earthling caught it on his other arm, wincing as the force sent him skyward.

Shaking her head, Juxera banished the shock to a corner of her mind, and with a quick application of ki vanished, reappearing behind the Earthling, fist reared back for a punch. The Earthling's head whipped around, just a hair too soon. For a moment, Juxera, impressed as she was that he could even track her, thought she had him.

And then _two more arms_ sprouted from his shoulder blades, catching the punch by the wrist.

"What the hell are you?!" an increasingly flustered Juxera yelped.

To her aggravation, the Earthling had the gall to smirk at her. _Smirk!_ "My name's Tenshinhan," he said. "But I don't think that's what you meant."

"You-!"

The human suddenly let go of her fist, flipping around so that his heel caught her chin. It didn't do any damage - hell, she barely felt it through her ki shields - but it did knock her back slightly, and he took the opportunity to finish the flip and rush her, all four arms flying. For a few moments, Juxera gave ground; fast as she was, having _four_ fists flying at her was throwing her off her usual rhythm. Then she adapted, her blocks flowing better, and in under a minute he had to hastily break off any more punches to deflect a counter.

She didn't give him a chance to recover, going on the offensive with an elbow aimed towards his nose. Two of his arms, the other two still out of position from the deflection, shot up to catch it, and succeeded in stopping the blow.

That meant they were in no position to stop the knee that slammed into his gut. Tenshinhan doubled over, breath whooshing out of his lungs, and Juxera slammed her other knee into his nose, knocking him up and drawing blood. The general finished up the combo by flipping over his head and spinning to drive an axe kick into his skull - and him into the pavement, shattering it and throwing a cloud of dust up around the crater he left behind.

Relaxing slightly, Juxera continued to hover over the dust cloud. And barely a second after, she was rewarded with an energy blast that she idly let pass by her.

"That was pathetic!" she shouted down, the dust clearing to show a battered, bleeding Tenshinhan, his legs spread in a wide yet stable stance and his palms held on in front of the other. "I'll admit, you would've given that showboat Ginyu trouble, and that's impressive." Holding her arm up, a large ball of energy sprang to life. "But that's not enough to beat me!"

With that, she hurled down the energy ball. The human didn't dodge; instead, he clasped both pairs of hands together, index fingers pointing up together, and braced. The ball hit with a loud smack - and then started going _back towards her!_

"Gah!" she yelped, dodging out of the way as the ball sailed past, then immediately looked back to the crater. "How-!"

There was nobody in the crater. And this time, she didn't see the energy blast coming. It slammed into her side before exploding, and sending her flying into a nearby building.

Pulling herself out of the hole she'd created, she glared at where the human was standing on a window washer's platform, of all things! Growling, she braced herself to kill this most annoying of opponents. Even the return of the human's other body didn't stop her from hurling herself headlong at Tenshinhan with a howl of rage and clawed, open hands.

"DIE!"

Despite her tunnel vision - or perhaps because of it - Juxera could still see when the human went from two bodies back to one. She saw him point his finger at her, energy visibly charging on the tip. She wasn't worried; he was weaker than her. It might hurt, but it wouldn't stop her from killing him. He simply wasn't strong enough, no matter how many he was.

"DODON-PA!"

The beam struck out, there was a moment of pain in her chest - and then Juxera knew no more.

~o~

The minute Chiaotzu saw Tenshinhan get yanked out of the air by what looked like a telekinetic grab, he knew what he needed to do. Picking up speed, though not enough to put up an aura, he dove down towards the two big powers he could feel, flexing his mind. He crested over the last mountains and into the skyscrapers of North City, and as he approached the two big kis, threw a hand out, sending a powerful bolt of telekinetic force towards the smaller ki he felt. As expected, it threw up a telekinetic wall of its own, blocking his attack, and Chiaotzu came to a halt in mid-air, taking in their two opponents.

On the ground was the psychic, who looked for all the world like a purple octopus that had crawled out of the ocean and squeezed itself into a set of armor. But the octopus comparison wasn't quite accurate: the tentacles were too numerous, the mouth was on the front of the mantle instead of under it, and the eyes showed genuine, malicious intellect. Floating above him, almost on Chiaotzu's level, the other enemy was far more human, and very obviously female. In fact, aside from her deep red skin, she could pass entirely as human. Well, that, and the standard armor over a black bodysuit that she wore. She was also strong. Very strong.

Oh, and there were a bunch of grunts scattered throughout the city, smashing things. They'd need to take care of that somehow.

" _I'll take her."_

The diminutive martial artist barely managed to not release a sigh of relief as Tenshinhan floated up towards him.

" _You're a better match for the tentacled one anyway,"_ he continued.

Tenshinhan came to a halt next to Chiaotzu. "I don't suppose I could convince you to just leave?" he called out.

The diminutive martial artist tuned out the rest of the short exchange, instead probing the tentacled alien with his telepathy. Unsurprisingly, it skittered off of very strong mental barriers, and Chiaotzu nodded fractionally at the strong sense of effrontery rolling off the alien. As Tenshinhan split himself, the other fighter dropped down to hover a few feet above the ground, facing down a street towards the tentacled alien. One of said tentacles twitched, a telekinetic strike screamed in, and Chiaotzu idly batted it aside before retaliating with a full, double-open-palm whole-body shove. As expected, the tentacled alien caught the attack with one of his one, backed by several tentacles. _Un_ -expectedly, they were evenly matched. The resultant clash lifted dust and knocked away rocks, cars, and a few people, the residual energy snatching up this debris and lifting it into a massive whirlwind around them.

" _A clever ploy,"_ the alien mentally grunted. " _Engage in me in telekinetic combat so I can't use my other powers."_ The sneer that followed was practically audible even in the telepathic link. " _But that applies to you, too, and once I beat you this city will die."_

Chiaotzu's reply was short, curt, and effective.

" _If."_

Mentally roaring in frustration, the tentacled alien redoubled its assault, Chiaotzu floating back a bit from the backlash. With a grunt of effort, he applied more force himself, halting the push.

The two fighters remained deadlocked for some time, the occasional invisible attack swinging back and forth and their psychic power grinding a glass-smooth crater in the ground below. Dirt, rock, and metal swirled around them, shredding anything that entered the whirlwind around them.

Grasping one of the larger chunks, Chiaotzu yanked it out and sent it flying at his opponent. The alien simply nudged the trajectory, slinging it around him and back at Chiaotzu. The martial artist repeated the action, adding a sharpened chunk of rebar, and the general responded right back. Back and forth the two traded increasing amounts of debris, reaching twelve chunks before Chiaotzu sent his return salvo skyward, the strain finally too much. And then it was back to the stalemate

" _How long… do you think… you can keep… this up?"_ his opponent growled, the mental voice strained and quavering.

Chiaotzu didn't answer, merely smiling. He could feel the fight going on outside their little bubble, after all. His opponent didn't like that, if the twisting of his… sort-of face was any indication.

" _Very well,"_ it snarled, raising its remaining tentacles. " _Then di-!"_

Suddenly, Tenshinhan stepped through the telekinetic whirlwind, treating the debris like so much dust in the wind. The alien didn't even get a chance to turn around before a high kick slammed into its mantle, sending reverberations throughout its body.

" _You-!"_ it snarled - and then Chiaotzu's full telekinetic power slammed into it, instantly turning the alien into paste against the building behind it. The blow was too much for the already-abused structure, and with a creaking groan it collapsed in on itself, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

Chiaotzu breathed a sigh of relief, letting his telekinetic grip relax, and fell on his back and tried to get his breath back and ignore the throbbing headache.

"Did… Did you…" he gasped out between pants. "Did you… get the…"

"Don't worry, I got the soldiers, too," Tenshinhan replied, wincing and rolling his shoulders. "Paid for that, though. I hope Korin has some senzu, or I'm going to be feeling this for days."

With an effort of will, Chiaotzu lifted his head up and looked his long-time partner over. Blood flowed from a nasty-looking scrape on his forehead, his nose was also bleeding and bent out of shapet, some nasty burns were just barely visible on his hands and forearms, and there was the usual collection of bruises on the torso.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mostly," the triclops grunted. "Sore as hell, but otherwise fine. I can still fight, and getting my other body back helped."

"Well, let's see if we can't get you patched up anyway," Chiaotzu said, floating back up into the air. "And get me some painkillers for this headache."

~o~

' _Tch, idiot,'_ Turles mentally scoffed as his scouter registered the last of Cold's generals dying. Cold himself didn't seem to notice; the lack of a scouter would normally be a clue, but the Saiyan was unsure if he had picked up how to sense battle strength, as some species could do. ' _Either he knows and he doesn't care, or he doesn't know, in which case he underestimated them. Neither is very flattering.'_

"Turles!" one of his men shouted. "We found the right spot!"

"Finally," he said, smirking. A quick ki-assisted hop brought him to the spot where his men had clustered up, and he fished out the seed of the Tree of Might. He poked a hole into the ground where the first soldier had indicated, and dropped in the seed, stepping back to wait. After a few seconds, a single leaf poked out of the ground, and then the tree sprang out of the ground, scattering the gathered soldiers as it soared into the sky.

The beeping of one of his men's scouters caught his attention, and when it exploded into shards an instant later it caught his full attention.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"I-I don't know, but it blew right past 200,000 and was heading this way!"

Turles' eyes widened. _Blew past_ 200,000? "Fuck that, let Cold handle whoever it is," he said. "The tree should be fully grown in a few minutes, get ready to take the fruit!"

As the Tree's growth started to slow, though it was already of favorable size compared to the surrounding mountains, Turles and his men waited, watching expectantly and dreading the arrival of the enormously powerful fighter that was apparently on the way. Turles himself was watching Cold, and it was only because of that that he even _noticed_ Cold suddenly get slammed by two figures and sent flying into the now-empty city in the distance. The Saiyan took in the two, a golden-haired Saiyan (the fuck?) in orange and blue, and a Namekian discarding a white mantle and turban.

He also noticed a smaller form in Freeza-style armor flying towards them. A very _fast_ smaller form. Eyes widening in mild panic, Turles glanced up at the Tree, and to his relief, saw the first of its fruit poking down from the branches.

"Stall him!" he barked, before turning and flying as fast as he could to the top of the tree, well aware that his men would likely only barely slow such an opponent. It was enough; as the sounds of bloody, one-sided combat hit him, he reached the first of the fruit, yanking it off and quickly scarfing it down, and none too soon. Whirling around, he caught a punch that would have hit his back, getting a good look at his opponent.

It was a kid. That was the first thought. The second was that the spiky, unruly black hair was very Saiyan, and he certainly _felt_ Saiyan, but there was something… off. His eyes and face were too round, lacking the hard angles of a Saiyan face, among other, vaguer feelings. And his third was that this kid had _power_ ; even now, even with the power from the Tree of Might coursing through his veins, he was straining to hold back the punch that had tried to pulp his torso.

"Man, these guys must be desperate if they're throwing kids at me like this," Turles taunted, trying not to let his strain show. Whoever this brat was, he was… well, the Saiyan wasn't quite ready to admit that his opponent was stronger than him, but he was definitely strong enough to be a problem. Turles slowly turned his eyes towards the nearest clump of fruit, mentally guesstimating how long it would take him to grab another - and then a small blast of energy streaked past his eye and incinerated the clump.

' _Okay, so the kid's not a moron. Good to know,'_ he thought as the kid pulled back, his hand still smoking from the blast he'd fired.

An explosion sounded out in the distance where Cold had apparently started fighting those other two guys, and the kid flinched at the sound. Turles didn't stop the grin that worked its way onto his face, and settled into a stance, the kid mimicking the action.

For several seconds, the two hung there, probing each other's defenses for holes. Another explosion sounded out, the kid flinched again, and Turles took his chance. Quickly slamming as much power as he could muster into his hands, he threw his palms out.

"TAKE THIS!"

The blast roared forth, enough energy to blow half the continent off the map. The kid wasn't completely off guard, but he was noticeably slow in reacting. Too slow to dodge or counter the blast before it hit.

Not too slow to catch it with his hands instead of his face.

Growling, Turles pumped more energy into the blast, pushing it forward a few… inches. And a bit upward, too.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me…" the Saiyan groaned.

"Grrrrraaaahhh!"

As the kid hurled the ball skyward, the Saiyan charged forward with all the speed he could muster. His side kick was blocked, as was the blow from his other leg, and then a diving punch to the top of his opponent's skull was batted away by a flip kick.

Winding back for another punch, he didn't even see the kick that slammed into his gut, cracking his armor and knocking the wind out of him.

"Gurf!" he wheezed, hunching over himself. Sadly, his gut didn't get much relief, as a quick jab to the nose sent his head rocking back. The combination of shooting pain, ringing concussion, and lack of oxygen all conspired to kill his reaction time as the kid shot over him-

"Haaaah!"

And slammed closed fists into his ribs, sending him sailing down into the ground, the speed of the impact leaving behind a mass of shattered rock and a large cloud of dust.

One of the larger slabs shifted, and then flipped over, Turles emerging from under it, hacking and spitting out a glob of dust and blood.

"Damn bra-!" he began before a boot impacted the back of his head and then shattered even more rock using his face as a hammer. Not that it mattered to him; that last blow was too much, and he went black.

~o~

Gohan let out a sigh of relief as the Saiyan under his boot didn't move any further. He didn't really want to kill the man, past crimes and giant tree notwithstanding.

Hopping off the man's back, he glanced up at said tree. Now, what to do with it?

" _Gohan!"_ Bulma yelled in his ear. Ah, there we go: guidance. " _I was just talking to Mr. Popo, and he says that tree is sucking the power out of the Earth! We need you to destroy it, before it turns the planet into a dead husk!"_

"I'll do it," Gohan replied, nodding. Raising an arm, he charged up a quick energy blast- and then paused as a thought occurred to him. Floating up to the tree, he plucked one of the strange fruit off the tree - and _then_ incinerated the tree with a casual point and blast.

That done, he turned his attention back to the ongoing fight with Cold - and his eyes widened.

 **** **"** **Dad! Piccolo!" he shouted, streaking towards a ridge overlooking the battle, just as another energy blast rocked the continental plate.**


	6. Chapter 6

The nameless Namekian nodded as the last of the evil powers scattered across the globe winked out. Good. It wouldn't do to stop King Cold and yet come back to a depopulated planet. He also approved when the kis of his allies started moving towards them. He and Goku would likely need their help.

" _Hey, uh… Kamiolo! Pic-kami? Aw, geez, what should I call him..."_

The Namekian winced at Goku's voice suddenly blaring in his mind. "Don't try and combine the names, too!" he growled in annoyance. "Just… call me Piccolo, okay? It'll be easier for all of us."

" _Sure thing!"_ Through the link, Piccolo felt Goku go from cheerful to somber in an instant. " _Alright, there are a bunch of soldiers and one Saiyan, somewhere between where Vegeta and Nappa were. They're… Gohan, are you sure that's what they're doing? Okay, apparently they're growing a tree."_

That brought a moment of silence from Piccolo. "You're kidding," he eventually said.

" _Nope! They put a seed in the ground and then this really big tree started growing. Cold's just standing there, looking menacing. They haven't noticed us yet,"_ Goku reported. " _By the way, you've got a plan, right? 'Cause this guy's strong enough that I'd really, really like one."_

As bizarre as this turn of events was, the basics of the situation hadn't changed, and their inactivity was a boon. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said. "Now, listen closely…"

~o~

The King of Earth sighed despondently as his aircar winged away from Central City, masked by thousands of others doing the same as the people of the city dropped everything, often literally, to get away. The memories of the Demon King Piccolo were long, and no one wanted to stick around only for the city - and them - to get blown up again.

"And after we'd just rebuilt it, too," he lamented, giving one last glance towards his city before slumping back in his seat.

Of course, the crisis this time wasn't Piccolo reborn - again. That would've been too simple. No, the invaders this time were aliens, aliens who'd shown no signs of wanting to take over the world like Piccolo had. And somehow that was even worse. It lent a great deal of uncertainty to the whole situation.

"What in the world?"

Jerked out of his musings by his pilot's confusion, the King glanced out the aircar's windows back towards where the invaders had landed. Aside from a very large tree growing where there hadn't been any two minutes ago (Which, compared to some of the other mysteries and miracles in the world, wasn't _that_ odd), there wasn't any- wait. There. A white streak in the sky, heading towards one of the mountains ringing the plain Central City. And there, on said mountain, just barely visible...

"Binoculars!" he barked, grabbing the instrument as it was handed to him and looking through them. His eyes widened as he properly saw the two figures crouched on the cliff. One was a boy in strange armor, but he recognized the other despite the fact that he'd obviously grown up. The mop of black hair was distinctive, as was the orange gi he was wearing.

"It's him," he breathed, lowering the binoculars. "The boy who defeated Piccolo!"

"Are you sure, your majesty?" the pilot asked.

"Yes, it's him!" the King confirmed, putting his binoculars back up just as the young man seemed to burst into flames, his hair standing up and turning blonde. Odd, that. That done, the two soared off, and in the split second between the King lowering his binoculars again, something had plowed into the now-empty Central City, and the golden-haired young man was now a glowing beacon on the plain, standing next to-

"Why, that's Piccolo himself!" he gasped.

"So he was reborn," the pilot muttered. "Well, if the Demon King Piccolo wants to fight the invaders, I say let him. Maybe he'll get himself killed for good this time."

The King nodded, though privately he didn't hold out much hope on that front. "Perhaps we should stay and watch a little longer…" he mused, stroking his chin.

"Your majesty, that would be a terrible-" the pilot began, only to be cut off as a glowing ball shot out from the city and exploded on the plain, the shockwave rattling the aircar.

When the dust settled, both men were treated to the sight of a large and very deep crater burned into the landscape, the air shaking from unseen exchanges of blows.

"Perhaps you're right," the King shakily stated. The pilot nodded, and pushed the aircar to its maximum speed. Time to get out of here before a stray blast killed them all.

~o~

Goku rocketed upward, outpacing the edge of the ki blast that had just detonated and also trying to stay ahead of King Cold's ki, which he could feel shooting towards him. Sadly, the alien warlord burst out of the dust cloud mere seconds later, throwing an overhead punch that sent shudders down his arms when he caught it on his palms

' _What strength!'_ he thought, backpedalling in the air. ' _I really don't want to get hit by that.'_

The Saiyan frantically picked up speed as a right hook screamed in, missing him by a hair. Rather than go for another physical attack, though, Cold threw his left hand forward, slamming a burst of telekinesis into his opponent, sending him tumbling through the air. The tyrant reached his other hand back for a blast-

And then two feet slammed into his back, sending him into and then through one of the nearby mountains. Piccolo didn't waste any time, charging up a blast in his palm and then, with a shout of "HA!", firing an energy blast that streaked in and detonated in the pile of shattered rock Cold's passage had created. Five more blasts followed the first, scouring the earth.

The last blast had only just finished detonating when Cold darted out of the resulting dust cloud, almost closing the distance too fast for Piccolo to react.

Almost.

The Namekian, seeing the charge coming, flipped over the side kick Cold threw and launched another blast at Cold, this time on his back. Even as the energy washed over him, though, Cold whirled around and grabbed Piccolo by the arm.

"Shit," he spat, right before a knee to the gut knocked the wind out of him. Bending over the limb, his mouth open and breath wheezing, it was all he could do to brace for the fist that slammed into the top of his skull. Cold wound back for another blow-

"TAIYO-KEN!"

"Agh!"

A flash of light washed over them, Cold recoiling back, his hands reflexively shooting up to cover his eyes. Piccolo took the opportunity to gain some distance and, ignoring the ringing in his head, charge up a blast in his palms. Beside him, Goku was doing the same with a Kamehameha.

"Ha!"

Cold had just finished shaking the spots from his eyes when the twin blasts fired, impossible to miss. "Bah!" he shouted, spreading his arms, a spherical orange force field springing to life around him. The Kamehameha broke upon it like a wave against a rock; the Makankosappo spent several seconds trying to bore through before Cold moved out to the left and out of its path, the beam deflecting off the field and drilling into the ground.

Even before this, Piccolo and Goku were already flying at top speed in separate directions, ready to repeat their previous tactic. Cold, of course, had no desire to go through that song and dance again. Tensing his muscles, he pumped energy into his forcefield, the orange barrier crackling and becoming unstable.

"Die!" Cold ordered, throwing out his arms and the energy simultaneously. The gathered power roared out, in a colossal spherical orange explosion that spread out and rocked the continental plate. In no time at all it engulfed his two opponents, who could do nothing but brace themselves and take it.

The orange sphere promptly turned into an orange explosion that sent a mushroom-shaped cloud of debris into the sky and rocked windows hundreds of miles away. When the smoke cleared, the plain had been scoured into smooth bedrock, and the surrounding mountains were mere rubble.

Lowering his arms, Cold took in the scene and smirked, especially when one of the distant rock piles shook and then disgorged his opponents. He began to walk, slowly, towards them.

"Is it just me, or are we getting our butts kicked?" Goku wondered, wobbling slightly on his feet. Burns decorated the exposed skin, and his gi was tattered and holed.

"It's just you," Piccolo growled, in much the same condition. Upon seeing Cold, barely damaged at all, slowly and carelessly walking towards them, he coughed and amended the statement. "Maybe not."

Both fighters assessed their injuries, and quickly decided they were still in fighting condition. Burns and bruises and even Piccolo's ringing headache were painful, but they weren't impairing. Standing straight, they slid into ready stances as Cold came to a halt maybe thirty feet in front of them.

"Yes," King Cold crooned. "I can see how you could kill my sons with this level of power. Normally, this would be the part where I would offer you a place by my side." Cold slid into a stance, flexing his muscles, and Piccolo and Goku gaped in numb shock as his power began _climbing_. "But I've had time to think about this, and it would be both better for business and much more personally satisfying if I simply _killed_ the both of you."

"Piccolo?" Goku asked weakly as Cold's power continued to climb, his muscles expanding along with it.

"Yeah?" the Namekian wearily replied.

"This is going to suck, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

That sentiment was proven as Cold's ki settled on an utterly monstrous plateau, and a split-second later his fist was lodged in Goku's gut. The Saiyan coughed up blood and went flying, and the kick Piccolo launched in retaliation was easily caught by Cold's tail. He promptly swung the Namekian into the ground, shattering the rock, and followed it up by stomping him in the chest and into the ground. He, too, coughed up blood.

"I am going to make this slow and painful," Cold hissed as he reached down and yanked a wheezing Piccolo up by the back of his gi. "By the end, you will be _begging_ for death."

"Heh."

Cold blinked at the chuckle, and immediately glanced around, searching for Goku's tell-tale golden aura. Nothing.

"Hmph," he sneered. "As if I'd fall for-"

Piccolo's antenna twitched, sending out a two crackling bolts of energy. At such close range, they had no chance to miss, and on impact electricity coursed through Cold's body, temporarily paralyzing him and weakening his grip as well. The Namekian took the opportunity to break that grip and jump back, allowing Goku to dive in, blue energy coursing in his cupped hands.

"You-!" Cold snarled, his paralyzed muscles only allowing him to look up.

"Ha!"

The Kamehameha jumped out of Goku's hands and swallowed Cold up, the energy promptly detonating in a sphere similar to Cold's earlier attack, though blue instead of orange. Goku hung in the air, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his abdomen, and braced himself for another round of hand-to-hand with Cold.

Effective though their handoffs were, they were decidedly rough on whoever was holding Cold's attention at the time.

~o~

Across the world, people watched with bated breath and gaping jaws in their homes and in the city squares as the fight continued, dutifully recorded by a series of drones, the broadcast periodically interrupted as some were destroyed, newscasters taking the opportunity to fill in the gap with their own inane commentary.

Some knew of the return of King Piccolo many years ago, and the mysterious young hero who had defeated him and then vanished. Others had followed the Tenka'ichi Budokai, and the constantly escalating displays of power that had climaxed in the destruction of South City. All remembered the mysterious destruction of East City, and feared a repeat.

Even with those incidents in mind, though, the most common reaction was simply a weak "This isn't a movie?"

Only one family realized just how interconnected all those earlier incidents were. And in fairness, they had quite the competitive advantage in that regard.

"That's definitely Son Goku," Android #8, better known in recent years as 8-man, stated. The Frankenstein lookalike was basically unchanged from his time in Muscle Tower, though his friendship with the little village had done him much good when it came to human interaction.

"Really?" the young woman named Snow wondered. She, on the other hand, was long removed from the child that had thawed out a strange monkey-tailed boy all those years ago, a grown woman that still had a fondness for knit sweaters. "But this guy has blonde hair!"

"The facial structure is the same, accounting for the age difference," 8-man countered, peering intently at the TV. "Besides, I suspect this is a transformation of some kind."

The gathered family winced in unison as another energy blast, only partially avoided, sent Goku tumbling into a cliff, shattering it and dumping rock all over him. That Piccolo (and boy, hadn't that been an unpleasant surprise) promptly nailed Cold with another energy blast to the back was of only some comfort.

"G-Goku can win, right?" Snow breathed, her voice hitching.

8-man pursed his lips, silently debating what to say. "I'm sorry, Snow," he eventually said as the screen showed Piccolo take a punishing blow to the chest and go tumbling. "But I don't think so. He's outclassed here."

' _Though, this is Goku,'_ 8-man thought to himself. ' _Somehow, I get the feeling he'll come out on top.'_

And all over the world, the watchers were grasping that same truth: Goku and Piccolo were losing. Later analysis would trace what happened next to one afroed man in Orange Star City who shouted "Tear him up, blond dude!" at the screen. The phrase was repeated by several in the crowd, then taken up by the entire city, and from there captured by television cameras and spread across the whole planet.

"Tear him up, blond dude!"

As rallying cries go, there have been better. Still, this one got the whole planet chanting it, so clearly it had done something right.

~o~

The wind whipped at Krillin's face even through the usual ki shield as he sped towards Central City as fast as he could push himself. He'd taken off almost as soon as he'd dropped Yamcha off at the nearest hospital; while Yajirobe was on the way with some Senzu beans, he'd probably not get there before the fight was over, and Krillin knew he was cutting it close as it is.

Thankfully, he could still feel the fight going on. He slowed down as the mountains surrounding Central City loomed in the distance, and aimed himself towards where he could feel Gohan's ki, roiling with worry, some distance from the three clashing _suns_. The last leg was spent falling to avoid grabbing attention, and he landed with a loud thump next to Gohan. To his dismay, the boy didn't even look up.

Turning his senses onto the battlefield, though, he could understand why. His ki sense showed him Goku's and Piccolo's power flickering and guttering like a candle in a breeze. His eyes showed a battered, bleeding Goku being held upside down by Cold's tail wrapped around his ankle, Piccolo nowhere to be seen. And both agreed that Cold was still as functional as Nappa had been before Goku arrived, i.e. banged up but still mostly at full strength.

Granted, his friend suddenly punching Cold in the gut and getting into an exchange while still hanging upside down was funny, but in a rather black way.

Krillin resisted the urge to cheer when Piccolo popped up behind Cold, but the tyrant merely backhanded him in the face and sent him skidding back.

"Oh, that looked painful," Krillin muttered, turning his attention to Gohan. He was shivering, fists clenched, and clearly fighting the urge to dive in and attack Cold.

"Hang on, Gohan," he said, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu are on their way, and then we can make a plan."

' _Hopefully one that actually_ works.'

Though he didn't visibly react, Gohan's shivering died down, leaving him still. Krillin joined him in his prone position on the rock, watching as Goku and Piccolo teamed up and actually managed to hold Cold off. He also noticed a small power lying still elsewhere on the plain. The former monk filed that away for later, as Chiaotzu and Tenshinhan were arriving, and in fact landed a few seconds later. Though there was one problem…

"Dude, are you sure you guys can fight?" Krillin wondered, looking over the litany of injuries Tenshinhan sported and the energy drink Chiaotzu was chugging.

"We'll be fine," Tenshinhan replied, his voice tight. "Besides, the Spirit Bomb doesn't need me to be in peak condition."

"You know the Spirit Bomb?!" Gohan and Krillin exclaimed in shock.

"Oh, he spent _days_ convincing King Kai to teach it to him!" Chiaotzu cheerfully explained before Tenshinhan could speak. "He only agreed when Tenshinhan got run over during one of his joyrides!"

"We agreed to never share that, Chiaotzu," Tenshinhan grumbled, a light dusting of red on his cheeks.

"Sorry, I'm a little hopped up on these energy drinks."

A colossal explosion rocked the entire area and cut off any further argument, and the four fighters gathered on the cliff looked up to see Goku and Piccolo spiraling down out of the sky, trailing smoke and Goku's hair shifted back to black.

"Uh, I don't think we have _time_ ," Krillin pointed out.

"Well, then you'll have to buy that time," Tenshinhan replied, standing up and holding his hands up to the sky, eyes closed in concentration.

"'You'll have to buy that time'," Krillin grumbled, throwing up his hands. "The second I throw a Kienzan, I'm gonna get fried! _We're_ gonna get fried!"

"Actually, I have an idea," Gohan cut in, standing up, his gaze not moving from where Goku and Piccolo had hit the ground. "But let's move somewhere else so we don't draw attention to Tenshinhan."

Krillin and Chiaotzu exchanged nervous glances, and then followed Gohan when he lifted off for another nearby cliff.

"Okay… Chiaotzu, what can you do to King Cold from here?" Gohan asked once they were settled in again, his eyes laser-focused on Cold as Goku and Piccolo only just rolled away from the punch that cratered the ground between them.

"Um…" The diminutive martial artist closed his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. "Well, I won't be rooting in his thoughts, and he'll shrug off my telekinesis, but… I think I can throw him off if I do a full-strength push against his mind."

"Okay," Gohan breathed. "I'll say when. Krillin, get read to throw the Kienzan."

"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy…" Krillin muttered under his breath as Chiaotzu crossed his legs and closed his eyes, floating above the rock. Below, Cold seemed to have tired of playing with his opponents, and had floated up and started charging up a crackling energy ball on his finger.

And then King Cold, ruler of all of East Galaxy and half of North Galaxy, suddenly contorted like Harry Houdini stuffing himself in a steel box, his expression one of week-long constipation.

"Who dares!" he roared, one hand reaching up to clutch his head. His answer came in the form of several razor-edged energy disks hurtling towards him in his peripheral vision. A quick burst up got him out of the way, still holding onto his crackling energy ball - and so Cold didn't notice the energy blast that streaked in and hit said energy ball, detonating it in a colossal explosion that shattered the tops of the nearby mountains and blew out the remaining windows in Central City.

Before the smoke could clear, an energy ball flew out out, hitting the mountain that had produced the disks and energy blasts and sending it crumbling. Then the smoke finished clearing, revealing Cold, his cape tattered, armor battered and cracked, skin scorched, and the veins in his forehead pulsing.

"Little rats!" he shouted. "Reveal yourselves, or I-"

His rant was cut off by two more energy discs shooting at him. Once again, he dodged them by flying above, but these didn't go in a straight line. These followed him up, and only a hasty yank of his tail and a quick move forward allowed him to avoid losing something.

Accelerating, Cold flipped around and fired two of his family's signature death beams at the discs. The resulting explosions took care of them, but did nothing for Goku and Piccolo landing a knee kick and straight punch, respectively, and knocking him into and through the long-evacuated Central City again.

For a moment, the two fighters just hung in the air, panting and bleeding. Both could feel the power Tenshinhan was building, knew they only needed to hold on a little longer.

"Hey," Goku wheezed, unable to avoid leaning on his knees. "You still good to fight?"

"Of course I am," Piccolo grunted, idly grabbing his aching side.

With a roar of raw power, Cold shot out of the ruined city, blowing apart buildings in his wake. Tensing, the Super Saiyan roared to life around Goku again, and he and Piccolo braced for one last round.

~o~

The Spirit Bomb was a strange and difficult technique, requiring as it did the user casting their ki senses out to distances and depths he - and Goku, most likely - had never even _attempted_ before the training. The experience was manageable on King Kai's planet, where the sources of energy were the grass and the people on it. On Earth, he was drawing power from so many more sources it threatened to overwhelm him.

From the grass and the trees and people and animals and even residual energy from the ongoing fight below him, Tenshinhan felt every source. Most sources were non-sapient, giving only quiet serenity or simple wants. The energy from the fight reeked of malice and desperation. All were easy to skim some energy off of. But he knew it wouldn't be enough, and cast his senses out further.

The core of the Earth was an incredible experience, tremendous heat and magnetic energy flowing in vast internal rivers at speeds that put most aircars to shame. And so _vast_ ; the martial artist felt small next to it. But even as he siphoned energy from the core (causing minute fluctuations in the magnetic field that would puzzle scientists for decades), the gathered energy still paled compared to King Cold. He cast his senses out further.

Jupiter blew the Earth's core away, and that was without Ganymede and Io. Jupiter seemed so… placid in the pictures, from the window of a spaceship, but he was forcefully reminded that the Great Red Spot was a _storm_ the size of the Moon as the energy of the planet acted much like a hammer on his senses. The trickle of energy gained from Jupiter was more like a firehose, and he struggled to grasp and control it. But control it he did, and a good thing, too.

For if Jupiter was a hammer, the Sun was an industrial piledriver. Had he had the capacity, Tenshinhan would have felt himself drop to his knees. The Sun… was. The core of the Earth had made him feel small; the Sun made him feel non-existent. The words of caution King Kai had given on tapping into the Sun ran in his head as he wrestled with the energy he was receiving, struggling to keep it from lashing out and destroying the entire Earth.

But control it he did, and when Tenshinhan opened his eyes again, he looked up to see a colossal ball of energy floating over his head, a hundred feet across and tremendously concentrated. And more importantly, Cold was looking right at it.

For a moment, Tenshinhan felt disappointed that Cold wasn't looking his way. The look on his face had to be _hilarious_. It quickly passed, and the martial artist smirked and brought his arms down.

The ball immediately shot downward, stretching into a cylinder as it homed in on Cold, who to his credit only briefly panicked before catching it in his hands.

"Y-You think this will kill me?" he growled, his whole body shaking with the strain. "T-This is nothing!"

Goku and Piccolo took advantage of the few seconds Cold spent wrestling with the energy ball to bolt for the nearest cover they could fine.

"This…" Cold said, the Spirit Bomb pressing him down. "This is… ah-!"

Suddenly, the Spirit Bomb accelerated, overwhelming Cold's attempts to hold it back.

"Noooooooo!"

Tenshinhan smirked at the success, but an instant before it hit the ground, he came to a chilling realization.

' _I can still see it.'_

Then it touched the ground, and with a flash of light the triclops knew no more.

~o~

Everyone on Earth knew when the Spirit Bomb detonated, even those stuck under a rock and not watching the TV broadcast. After all, it's hard to miss the entire planet shaking. Satellites orbiting the Earth were treated to the terrifying and awe-inspiring sight of a pillar of light reaching up into space from Central City, and the broadcast itself was ended by the shockwave knocking out all the camera drones.

For Krillin, Chiaotzu, and Gohan, huddled behind a mountain that suddenly seemed absurdly flimsy, it wasn't awe-inspiring, merely terrifying and deafening. Finally, though, the roar of the energy faded away, and they cautiously peeked over the much shorter peak, finding a landscape scoured of anything prominent around a colossal vertical hole in the ground, so deep none of them could see the bottom.

For a moment, all three were silent, gaping in astonishment, and then Chiaotzu turned a shaky gaze on Krillin. "D-Does it normally do this?"

"No," Krillin managed to get out, mostly preoccupied with staring at the hole.

"Well, the ball Dad made on Earth was only about this big," Gohan pointed out, holding his hands about a foot apart. "Uh, also, where's Dad and…"

"Oh, right!" Chiaotzu exclaimed, jumping up. Putting his hands to his head, he began to concentrate, humming slightly. "Okay, Goku and Piccolo are alive and together. About to pass out from exhaustion, but alive. Tenshinhan's unconscious, but otherwise fine. Oh, and Yajirobe's flying over with Senzu. Apparently he decided not to head to West City."

"And… Cold?" Krillin prodded.

Chiaotzu glanced back at him, but concentrated again - and promptly flinched back. "Uh, he's alive, he's pissed off, and I told Yajirobe to hurry up with those Senzu or we're all dead!"

"Oh. Joy."

In their panic, neither martial artist noticed that Gohan had clenched his fists at his side, his whole body quivering with tension. He could feel Piccolo and Goku's ki, dangerously close to flickering out, and he could feel Cold's ki, battered and weakened but still far too strong for the exhausted fighters to handle.

"Not again," he whispered. "I'm not letting Dad and Piccolo die in front of me again."

Flickers of white ki flame licked at his form as a heady combination of determination and anger flooded his mind at the memories. Goku, lying on the ground with broken ribs, Raditz advancing on them. Piccolo, cooked alive shielding him. Never again, not if he could do something about it!

And when Cold floated out of the hole, burned and bleeding, missing his armor and launching into another monologue, Gohan's entire being focused in on him. The alien was a threat to his mentor and his father, to the whole planet.

He would die.

"YAAAAAAAAA!"

Launching himself off the mountain, ignoring the shouts of surprise from Krillin and Chiaotzu, he soared up to Cold and slammed a left hook into his cheek before the tyrant could react, sending the him rocking back with a look of shock. Scowling, Cold swung his tail at Gohan, only for a booted foot to slam toes-first into his jaw and send him up on only semi-controlled flight. A quick burst of flight put him above Cold and, throwing his palm out with the other hand gripping the wrist, fired the strongest energy blast he could muster.

Unfortunately, Cold caught it on his hands, though the force of the blast still pushed him down to earth, where he could then brace and stop the attack in its tracks.

"You little rats! All of you!" he roared, stone cracking under his feet. "I'm sick of this planet! I should have simply destroyed it from orbit, and once you die that's exactly what I'll do!"

Gathering up energy in his arms, he prepared to push back and _kill_ this little brat-

Cold barely saw the ball that streaked in and slipped into his opponent's energy blast. He then had time for a ' _Not again…'_ before said ball sympathetically detonated the much larger blast he was grappling with.

And though it couldn't compete compared to his Death Ball or the Spirit Bomb, it was a spectacular explosion nonetheless that sent a pall of black smoke high into the air.

As the energy consumed Cold and the ground around him, Gohan stayed floating overhead, watching and waiting. As he could feel his ki, the young half-Saiyan was unsurprised when Cold was revealed to be standing and by all appearances still in fighting trim, burns decorating his palms and arms aside.

Curiously, though, the furious anger from before was gone. Instead, the alien looked… calculating as he floated up to be level with Gohan, who shifted into a mid-air stance.

A long, tense silence stretched between the two before Cold spoke up.

"Very well," he said, a slight undercurrent of raw _hate_ in his voice. "You have earned yourselves a reprieve. Consider yourselves lucky. Not many planets can claim that."

Gohan glared right back at the larger alien, anger and determination still thrumming through his veins. "You think we're going to let you just _leave?"_ he demanded.

Suddenly, Cold was in his face, features twisted into a livid snarl. "I think that your best fighters are about to drop dead and that _you can't stop me by yourself."_

Drifting back a bit, fear rapidly replacing his earlier emotions, Gohan had to concede the point. He hadn't even seen Cold _move_. After another tense moment, the galactic tyrant snorted derisively and turned and sped off, presumably towards one of the ships, still sitting near North City or West City, that had brought him and his men to Earth. And as he sped out of sight, Gohan was suddenly struck by the sheer anticlimax.

"That's it?" he muttered.

And, apparently, it was. Yajirobe's aircar, and the Senzu he carried, was still nowhere in sight, and for a moment Gohan entertained a fantasy of grabbing the Senzu from the swordsman, flying them to his father and mentor, and then them speeding after Cold and finishing him.

Instead, he shook his head and dropped down to ran up to his father, sitting in a battered heap on the ground next to Piccolo. "Dad!"

"Hey, Gohan," Goku replied, before grunting in pain as his son bowled him over and wrapped him up in a hug. "Ack! Hey, easy on the ribs!"

"We won, Dad!" Gohan cried, clinging as tightly as he could. "We won!"

"Yeah…" Goku breathed. "We did…"

A hand reached over and ruffled the boy's hair, and he pulled away from his father to look up at Piccolo's warm smile. "Good job, Gohan," he said.

That served to remind Gohan that this Piccolo had fused with Kami. The Namekian must have seen the distress on his face, because he reached over and ruffled his hair again.

"Don't worry, I'll still be the same Piccolo who trained you," he said reassuringly.

"If you call being dumped in the wilderness for six months with just 'live' as your instructions," Gohan grumbled under his breath.

Piccolo's smile morphed into a smirk at that, while Goku started chuckling. "Ahahaha- urk!" The Saiyan promptly doubled over, clutching his side. "Don't make me laugh, please! It hurts too much!"

Still, the laughter had the desired effect. Gone was any melancholy, only relief at a very close victory.

~o~

Hundreds of miles away, hidden below the mountains of North City, an old man with flowing white hair sat hunched over a console, currently replaying the battle in Central City. As he looked over the footage again, his mind dutifully quantifying the power on display, he slammed a fist against his desk.

"Damn him," he snarled. "Even my worst-case projections didn't predict this!"

The old man glanced back to the coffin-like structure lying on the floor, flanked by two bodies lying on metal slabs. Automated machines wafted over them, reaching in and welding or removing parts.

"It's not enough," he lamented. "Even… him. And the Cell project won't be ready for decades."

Pulling up a program, he began to type, ideas flowing from his mind.

"I have no choice," he muttered. "It won't follow my orders, but if it can kill Son Goku, I shall have to be satisfied with that."

"Even if I die."

Quickly saving the start of the blueprint, he entered a file name:

Mechanical Man #19.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Yes, I'm updating this. No, this is not dead. No, don't expect regular updates.**

 **I do apologize for having a transition chapter instead of one more action-filled after so long, but it is a necessary step along the journey. Expect things to pick up more in the next update.  
**

King Cold crested over the mountains around the Northern metropolis, a disgusted snort slipping out.

' _Damn incompetents couldn't even properly exterminate a_ city _.'_

The temptation to idly blast the city into nonexistence was strong, and Cold even raised a palm- no, a finger to do so. However, he could see said finger quivering, and he dropped it. Get to the ship, leave, come back later. _Crush_ all those miserable insects.

Turning away from the oh-so-tempting city in the distance, Cold dropped down to the meadow where the two ships Juxera and Metzalblood had flown in on were parked. An idle energy blast obliterated one ship before he climbed in the other; no sense in giving the humans more spacefaring technology.

Entering the remaining ship, Cold made his way to the cockpit and ordered the ship to climb into orbit, further programming it to prepare a healing machine and then a meal. Once he was done, and he could feel the acceleration of the ship, the ruler of the North Galaxy slumped to the floor, his entire body shaking.

"Damn Saiyans…" he ground out, holding up a quivering and burned hand. He knew, _knew_ that if he'd stayed only a minute longer he could have killed Earth's defenders, regardless of the damage he'd taken. But his damn _power_ had burnt itself out, had been dropping with every second, and fending off that brat's attack, power to power, had only accelerated it. He might still have finished them off, or simply blown up the planet, and survived. Might. That wasn't something he wanted to bet on.

No. Better to leave, get his strength back, and then _remove_ first this damnable weakness and then the equally damnable Saiyans. A savage grin spread over his face. Oh, yes, he'd _enjoy_ that.

"Heheheheheh…" he chuckled. "Enjoy your peace. It'll make it all the sweeter to see your face as I crush the life from you. Ahahahahahahahaha!"

As Cold soared cackling through space, the thought of his empire didn't even cross his mind.

~o~

"Can't believe I'm reduced to a damn delivery service. Again," Yajirobe groused as his aircar sped towards Central City - or what was left of Central City, from all the explosions he'd felt shake the planet. "Though, better'n going out to fight."

Cheered up somewhat by that thought, the rotund samurai was quiet for the last fifteen minutes or so it took to get to the battlefield. The scoured-to-the-bedrock, surrounded-by-shattered-mountains battlefield. Yup. Definitely not someplace he wanted to be in a fight.

Thankfully, the fighting seemed to be long over, and he banked his aircar towards the lone spot of color on the scoured rock, landing and climbing out with bag of Senzu in hand.

The only two present were Piccolo and Goku, who glanced at him but didn't seem to have the energy for anything more. Yajirobe looked over the two, their shredded clothing and patchwork quilt of injuries and the exhaustion written all over their half-lidded eyes and slumped sitting positions.

"Good thing I'm here," he said, fishing two Senzu out of the bag. "You guys up to catching these?"

The two fighters exchanged a glance. "Best not to risk it," Piccolo answered.

Mentally shrugging, Yajirobe strode over and handed them the beans. Two mouthfuls and swallows later, Goku was grinning sunnily and Piccolo staring off into the distance, both healed up and back on their feet.

"Thanks, Yajirobe, you're a lifesaver!" Goku declared.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," the samurai grunted, despite the pleased feeling in his chest. "Anyone else need a bean?"

"Gohan's bringing Tenshinhan," Piccolo answered. "He'll need one. And… who are Krillin and Chiaotzu carrying? Did Yamcha make it after all?"

A sudden pit settled in Yajirobe's stomach. "No, he's in the Capsule Corp. infirmary, last I heard," he replied.

Gohan arriving ended that conversation, though both Goku and Piccolo had gone serious. They went even _more_ serious when Gohan landed and carefully placed Tenshinhan on the dirt.

The triclops was unconscious, but that wasn't the worst of it. His entire torso and face looked like he'd gotten a shotgun blast of _lava_ , a crazy patchwork of livid burns and pitted wounds.

"Yajirobe-" Goku began.

"Already on it," he replied. He knelt down, fat fingers were prying open Tenshinhan's lips. It took a bit of finagling, but the bean was dispatched down his gullet, and in an instant Tenshinhan's eyes shot open and the man himself shot to his feet.

"What-" he breathed, wild-eyed, head on a swivel. "Did we win?"

"Yup!" Goku said, grinning.

"Kinda," Gohan hedged.

"For now," Piccolo finished.

Tenshinhan sighed. "Figures." Straightening up, he turned his eyes to Krillin and Chiaotzu as they came in for a landing, the latter holding a body in a telekinetic grip. "And who's that?"

"Um…" Goku shaded his eyes for a better view, and promptly started in surprise. "That's the guy who planted the giant tree!"

"What?"

"Look, unless you guys wanna give him a Senzu, I should get to West City," Yajirobe interjected.

"Ah, stay a bit. Gotta decide what to do with this guy, whoever he is."

"Oh, good, I was hoping you were gonna say that," Krillin said, right as Chiaotzu dumped the figure he was carrying on the ground back-first.

To the shock of all but Goku, Gohan, and Piccolo, the man looked almost like Goku. And the "almost" part was extremely subtle; a few lines of the face here, some divergent bone structure there. The resemblance was otherwise uncanny.

"'Cause I got no idea how to handle this."

For a long moment, the gathered Z fighters stared at Turles' unmoving body. Unseen to the others, Gohan stepped back, shuffling back and forth on his feet, the fruit of the Tree of Might still hidden under his armor an uncomfortable pressure. Mention this, don't mention this? What to do?

"Right, I say we kill him."

Oh, hey, a distraction!

Krillin turned a pained look Piccolo's way. "Harsh, man. I mean, he's, like, a negative threat to us, so is that really necessary?"

"He's a Sai- one of Cold's men," Tenshinhan pointed out. "Who knows how many people he's killed, but it's got to be a _lot._ We'd be doing the universe a favor by putting him in front of Enma." Chiaotzu nodded in agreement.

"We're talking about _killing_ him here!"

"Also, he might know something useful!" Gohan chimed in.

"Like what?" Tenshinhan countered.

The young demi-saiyan flinched back, unwilling to answer that.

"Uh, guys?" Yajirobe cut in, pointing at something in the distance. "Might wanna make a decision soon-ish."

Everyone followed his pointed finger, where military transports could be seen cresting the mountains.

"Alright, we're _not_ killing him," Goku decided. "But we're also not healing him up. Yajirobe, can you get him to Bulma? She can keep him contained until I get an uninhabited planet out of King Kai. Hopefully."

Piccolo grimaced, but also nodded. "Not a bad plan," he admitted. "But Yajirobe's right, we should go."

Nodding, the gathered fighters all took to the air and soared away, faster than the incoming soldiers could track. Yajirobe, after dumping Turles' unconscious body into his aircar, followed suit, the aftermarket engines propelling it away.

And so it was that the King's army arrived to find an empty battlefield.

~o~

Yamcha yawned, standing out of bed and pressing his hands against his lower back, getting a series of satisfying pops. The Capsule Corp. doctors had told him it would be months before he could do something like this, and then one Senzu had shut them up. That had been nice. Padding over to the nearest window, he threw open the curtains and beheld a massive crowd of people and quite a few flashing camera bulbs.

Carefully closing the blinds, he grabbed a reasonably clean pair of pants off the floor and then bounded down the stairs, finding Dr. Briefs and his wife in the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the press outside.

"What's with the paparazzi?" he asked, trepidation coloring his voice.

"You, probably," Dr. Briefs bluntly stated. "Haven't seen a crowd this big at my doors since I announced the capsule!"

"Don't worry too much, Yamcha dear," Mrs. Briefs added. "They're harmless! And if they try to get on the property, it's perfectly legal for you to punch them until they stop!"

That did make Yamcha feel better, though he spent a second blinking at the nonchalant delivery. Still, he ambled over to the phone and dialled a specific number. Once it picked up…

" _If this is about coming to the Kame House to get away from the reporters, not happening."_

Yamcha blinked. "Uh… how'd you know about the reporters?"

~o~

"500 meters! 500 meters, you damn bloodsuckers!"

Krillin sighed. "Wild guess."

Silence. " _You guys have reporters, too."_

"Got it in one. Master Roshi's island is apparently outside the jurisdiction of any country, though, which means the reporters can't get within 500 meters. Still a pain."

BOOM!

"I said no telephoto lenses!"

"Especially since Master Roshi's enjoying this a little more than he should."

A sigh blew over the line. " _Great. Y'think Goku's got the media breaking down his door?"_

"Probably not," Krillin replied, thinking 'Lucky bastard'. "He lives in the middle of nowhere; Tenshinhan's probably clear, too."

" _Plus, knowing Goku, he'd invite the reporters in for dinner."_

Picturing that, Krillin snickered. Yeah, that did sound like Goku.

~o~

"This is surprisingly good."

"You said it!" Goku said, thumping the other speaker on their back and nearly pitching them into the fried rice and dumplings they were eating.

This person, a nondescript man in a decent but unspectacular suit, had showed up at the door of the Son household about five minutes prior, saying that he had to talk. Goku had immediately invited him in to join them for dinner, and with how much Chi-Chi normally cooked just for Goku and Gohan, cooking a little extra was no problem.

"So, what brings you to Mount Paozu, mister…?" Chi-Chi asked.

"Smith. John Smith," the man said, reaching into his jacket. "And I was asked to deliver this."

He pulled out a sealed letter, delicately placing it on the table and sliding it towards Goku. The Saiyan paused eating his bowl of noodles, grabbing the envelope and easily tearing it open. As he scanned over it, he frowned in a look of intense concentration. Five minutes passed, broken only by the clatter of chopsticks on the china, until John Smith spoke up.

"Um…"

"Don't worry, Dad's just a slow reader," Gohan said. "Give him a few more minutes."

Indeed, a few minutes later, Goku nodded and placed down the letter. "So, there were a lot of big words I didn't understand, but I've been invited to talk to the King of the World in a week? And we apparently have a King of the World."

"What?!"

Ignoring his mother's outburst, Gohan raised an eyebrow. "Master Roshi didn't cover civics while you were training with him?"

"Nah, he wanted to get my reading and writing up to snuff first."

Though too well-trained for any of the usual tells, John Smith's eyes were ever so slightly wide. _This_ was the hero who'd saved the planet at least twice? Granted, he hadn't expected some steely-eyed action hero badass like most of the general public, but he'd expected at least a high school education and the knowledge that came with it.

Then again, education wasn't everything, John Smith reminded himself. The man likely didn't need it.

"Anyway, I'd love to talk to him!" Goku said.

John Smith blinked, chasing away the mental tangent and berating himself for it. "You'll come to the meeting?" he asked in clarification.

"Sure!" Goku nodded. "Just need to know where it is and I can let everyone else know."

Wait a minute. "How did you know we were approaching the other martial artists?"

"Well, we're friends," Goku said simply. "And we were all fighting the other day. Of course you'd want to talk to us!"

Hmm. Maybe he'd underestimated this seemingly simple man. Another thing to remember.

"More fried rice?" Chi-Chi prompted.

A smile spread across John Smith's face, more genuine than anything he'd presented since arriving at the Son house. "Yes, please."

~o~

The King of the World sighed and resisted, for the umpteenth time, the urge to adjust his tie. It was centered. Fiddling with it would only make things worse. And besides, he wasn't about to talk to career politicians or high-powered CEOs or just plain old money. These were just simple martial artists.

Martial artists that could level cities without even trying.

Ah, there was the urge again.

Thankfully, one of his guards chose this moment to poke his head in. "Your majesty, your guests are here," he announced.

"Thank you," the King said, and meant it. "Send them in."

The soldier nodded, and pulled back. Shortly after, four people filed in, the King mentally attaching names to them. Son Goku. Tenshinhan. Krillin. And Yamcha. The former were definitely the ones who'd fought Piccolo; the triclops was distinctive, naturally, and Son Goku too strongly resembled the young boy who'd defeated the demon for him to be anyone else. The other two had been in West City during last week's invasion, and the many cell phones had plastered their faces in every corner of the internet.

"Thank you for coming," he said, indicating four comfortable chairs that had been dug out of storage. As they sat, he remarked, "Not to be rude, but I was under the impression there were seven of you."

"Chiaotzu trusts me to speak for him," Tenshinhan said.

"And we all agreed that having Piccolo be here wasn't the best idea," Goku added. "Also, Gohan's five, so…"

The King nodded. All good reasons, especially the Piccolo one. Seeing the Demon King, the boogeyman for years, in the city they'd relocated the government to would be… panic-inducing, to say the least.

"So, what did you want to talk to us about?" Yamcha asked. The King frowned slightly, and was gratified to see the martial artist shift uncomfortably - though that may have been from the look his bald companion, Krillin, had sent his way.

"Well, ideally, I'd get you all on stage in front of the press, publicly hand you a set of medals, and then declare you defenders of Earth," the King answered. "But I get the feeling you wouldn't go for that."

"Maybe…" Krillin hedged. Yamcha looked interested, too.

"Sounds like a lot of unnecessary ceremony to me," Tenshinhan evenly stated.

"Oh, it would very much be a PR stunt, but the public could use some reassurance right now," the King answered. "That said, feelings will calm, especially with all the footage circulating right now, so it's not completely necessary. No, what I want to know is who you were fighting last week and if they'll come back."

"That was King Cold," Goku answered. "He's…" He trailed off, frowning in thought.

"An interstellar real estate mogul," Tenshinhan picked up. "Of the mafia kind."

The King blinked. "Real estate?" he repeated incredulously.

"The dude sells _planets,"_ Krillin replied. "And he doesn't really care much about who's living on it."

Oh. Oh dear. "And… he wanted to sell Earth?"

"Actually Piccolo killed his son," Goku answered. "And then I killed his other son! But don't worry, they were trying to kill us first."

For a moment, the King was very tempted to groan aloud and pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course it would be something like this. "He'll be back, I take it?"

"Yes," Yamcha stated, voice hard and flat. "And no offense, but stay out of our way."

"Yamcha!" Krillin snapped.

"It's the truth," the martial artist countered. "Throwing the army at even one of Cold's weakest soldiers would simply get them all killed."

"We gathered that, thank you," the King dryly stated. "We know we'll have to rely on you. And pursuant to that, we need some way to contact-"

"Actually, we can sense ki and Cold isn't very subtle," Goku interrupted. "We'd see him coming long before anyone else. Er, no offense."

"Can I at least pay you all a retainer, so I can at least say I'm doing _something?"_ the King all but demanded. To his relief, both Krillin and Goku perked up at that. "It will be substantial, I assure you. We just need an address to mail the checks to."

That set off a small flurry of activity as the martial artists all moved to write down the necessary information. Though Tenshinhan put in a bank account. Odd. But not a problem, either.

After that, the King quickly ushered them out, and then slumped back in his chair to relax a little. The press conference suggestion had been a longshot, but at least they knew more about this threat and had a little more assurance that the martial artists would try and stop it. Now for the real meat of his day.

Right on time, his door opened, admitting another of his guards, who sat down in front of him with a briefcase in his lap.

"Do we have a preliminary report on the two spaceships near West City?" the King asked.

"Here it is, your majesty," the guard said, reaching into his briefcase before pulling out a massive stack of bound papers that was promptly thumped on his desk. "I assume you want the short version right now?"

"Please," the King replied, warily eyeing the full report.

"Alright, so, the scientists are basically going nuts. Faster-than-light travel, artificial gravity, some sort of healing system, and a thousand different other things they're sure will revolutionize… well, everything. They want funding, and lots of it; they want people, and lots of them; they want to be able to compare notes with Capsule Corp; and I've heard from a reliable source that they could appreciate some direction lest they spend the rest of their careers deciphering everything."

"Thank goodness we got to the ships before Capsule Corp, or the company would be doing exactly that," the King sighed. "Alright, have them focus on developing something that will let us at least match this King Cold's foot soldiers."

The guard suddenly perked up. "Ah, on that front, the scientists have found racks of some sort of energy blaster."

"Good. That's exactly the sort of thing we need." Taking the full report, he leaned back. "Now, let me read their recommendations, and tell them I'll get back to them with more specific instructions in a few days."

"Yes, your majesty."

Just as the guard turned to leave, the King paused, the first page of the report still held in his fingers. "Ah, one more thing. Tell them to work on reverse-engineering the spaceship systems, too. Best to have a backup plan to our backup plan."

"Yes, your majesty."


End file.
